Neophyte and Neurotic
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: COMPLETE Jacob is rather new to being in love, and Harry is just a tad neurotic. SLASH Jacob/Harry
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I know that I should be buckling down and actually writing 'Don't You Want Somebody to Love?', but I just don't have the damned energy right now.

Warning: This contains homosexuality, possible references to offensive habits such as drinking alcohol, smoking, having sex, and breathing. If you don't like it, don't read it. And for god's sake, stop telling me about typos! Read the paragraph in my profile about writing, _please_.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Twilight. The rights go to J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyers, respectively. I make no profit from this. Inspired by the song 'Honey and the Moon' by Joseph Arthur, which I also do not own.

**Neophyte and Neurotic**

Don't know why I'm still afraid  
If you weren't real I would make you up  
now  
I wish that I could follow through  
I know that your love is true  
and deep  
as the sea  
but right now  
everything you want is wrong,  
and right now  
all your dreams are waking up,  
and right now  
I wish I could follow you  
to the shores  
of freedom,  
where no one lives.

-Honey and the Moon, by Joseph Arthur

It was Valentine's Day in Washington, a day of love, infatuation, loneliness and, in some cases, unbridled lust.

"I'm not discussing this," he singsonged, trying to restrain his frustration. He shoved the Peruvian art book back onto to the shelf, going back into the history section of the La Push library. Not to be dissuaded, Leah followed him and flung herself against his back, disrupting his balance and causing him to fall forward and smack his face against the shelf.

"Damn it, would you just _go_ already?" he hissed, not wanting to draw the librarian's ire by raising his voice too far.

Leah smirked and folded her arms, "You practically admitted it. Why are you holding out on me? I already know you're gay, so why can't you just say it out loud?"

"Because, for the last time, I'm not gay!" he was out of patience and the will to try and be civil to Leah. His manly pride was being called into question, so he felt perfectly justified in getting a little ruffled. It didn't make him defensive! "Why are you so obsessed with my sexuality all of a sudden, anyway? I came here to study, not to have you annoy the crap out of me."

She rolled her eyes, "Dude, fine, I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out."

"Whatever; just tell me."

"I saw you checking out my brother at the cliffs yesterday," she held up a hand when he opened his mouth to object, "Hold on and let me finish. I don't think anyone else noticed, and you could very well have been staring at his ass for perfectly innocent reasons for all I know. I'm just saying that it looked pretty gay to me; which is why I am here bothering you, trying to get an answer out of you one way or the other."

He wasn't trying to interrupt anymore. He _had _been looking at Seth last Saturday, and several other times when he thought no one would notice. It wasn't his fault! Seth was growing up, and he was attractive. You couldn't blame him for admiring.

Now, he could only hope that Leah didn't murder him out of protective sisterly rage.

"Well?" she pushed, flicking his ear to draw his attention to the here and now.

"I don't know," he finally admitted it out loud, to himself and to her; "I don't know how I feel. I still think women are, you know, and then this thing with Seth kind of came out of nowhere. I won't lay a hand on him, I swear, but…I don't know."

"Jake, its fine; There's no way you could do anything with my little brother without me knowing about it. And, come on, you're nineteen. You're allowed to be a little confused," she laid her hand on his shoulder and then patted his cheek, "Give me a smile…"

He smirked despite himself. In recent years, specifically after he'd formed his own pack and finally gotten over Bella fucking Cullen, Leah had warmed up to him. This was great, because she was his beta and it would not be good for the pack if she still thought of him as just some little kid.

"Thanks, Lee."

She smiled and stepped back, "No problem. Look, I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. Everyone needs someone like that, and I haven't seen you hitting the dating pool lately, so…"

He nodded and turned around to go back to his browsing. She left without speaking another word, and her footsteps were as silent as her wolf form on the library's carpet. Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe he was just experimenting in his own mind; this was just a phase. He'd be fine in a couple of months, back to normal.

Getting a girlfriend just might alleviate the situation some, and make him less depressed today, but he didn't have time to date anyone. Between managing his unruly pack, taking care of his dad, working in the shop, and now trying to go to college, he had more than he could handle already. Needless to say, he was bleeding stress out of his pores.

He needed some downtime, but there didn't seem to be any time for that. With a groan, he laid his head against the shelf and closed his eyes.

~000~

"You and everyone in this bloody damned office are driving me spare!" Harry yelled at Draco, throwing his mug of tea at the wall. It smashed with a loud sound, scattering chunks of porcelain on the carpet. He whirled without waiting for Draco's response to that and left, slamming the door of his office behind him. He charged down the hall, ignoring the frightened faces of his co-workers as they peeked out of their offices to stare. He was known for losing his temper under extreme pressure, so this was by no means a new experience for them. In fact, it was customary to prank any new members of the Auror force by throwing in the path of Harry when he was going off his head.

He raced down the stairs instead of taking the elevator, needing the exercise to blow off some steam. Half-way down the eight flights of stairs he realized that he'd forgotten his briefcase. Throwing a tantrum was one thing, but going home without those reports was another matter…

He summoned it and waited impatiently for the handle to snap into his hand. It did so, and he continued down the stairs.

Now, considering the fury he was exhibiting, you'd think that someone had screwed up really badly somewhere. This was not the case. Harry was furious because it was Valentine's Day; that dreaded day of pink hearts and giggling office girls.

He really hated Valentine's Day.

Apparatating home to the flat he shared with Ginny, he glanced at the clock and saw that he there an hour earlier than he normally got off work. He smoothed a hand through his rumpled hair and tried to breathe normally. Maybe being home early could be put to good use. He'd been intending to make something special for dinner and then ordered dessert, but with the extra time he had enough resources to make a dessert himself. A sound coming from the direction of the bedroom stopped him in his path to the kitchen.

He frowned, and took out his wand. Ginny wasn't due home for another two hours from practice, so who…?

Padding like a cat down the hall, he whispered a silencing spell on the door and slid it open silently. His eyes widened and he almost dropped his wand at the sight on the other side of the door. It was not an intruder like he'd expected.

It was his wife, sprawled out in bed with another man, in the aftermath of what had apparently been a strenuous session of lovemaking. All the lingering fury from the office left him, and he leaned wearily against the doorframe and just watched her stroke this strange man's hair.

Shit.

He cleared his throat, and they leapt apart. Ginny dragged the sheet up initially to cover her, and then let it drop when she saw who it was. Her eyes were fearful but flinty at the same time, and one look at them was all it took to convince Harry that she didn't regret what she'd done. She was only sorry she'd been caught.

The man was crouched at the foot of the bed, hands protectively cupped over his privates. He gaped at Harry, a look Harry was familiar with by now.

"Ginny, please come out into the hall for a moment. I would like to have a word with you in private," he used his polite voice, the one he used on unruly criminals who didn't want to come quietly. She slid out of bed, wrapping a throw blanket around her, and joined him in the hall. Harry shut the door on the strange man and cast a spell so that he couldn't eavesdrop.

Standing in the dim light of the hall, he looked at her. He'd loved Ginny for a long time, and knew that there was a time when she'd loved him as well. This was his wife, not some harlot. They'd been intending to have children soon, and had even stopped using protection to hasten the process. She met his eyes and then looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

"I…"

"You're not sorry," he supplied, "That's, well, it's not fine, but I understand. You know that this marriage is over, right?"

She nodded, "Yeah. I think it's about time we went our separate ways to be perfectly honest."

He snorted, "If that is what you think, then why did you tell me you wanted children?"

Defensively folding her arms, she met his eyes to snap, "I'm twenty-eight, Harry. The longer I wait, the more it's going to hurt and the bigger the chances that there will be birth complications. I'm sorry I couldn't have children with you, but I'll happy with them no matter who the father is."

"Whatever you say," he wanted to be angry. He knew, logically, that he should have been angry. But all he felt was tired. His head felt heavy with her lies, and he wondered how Ron was going to react to all of this. How was Ron going to handle his little sister going around having an affair, possibly more than one? "You should go back in there and explain that we're separated now. I'd also recommend packing some of your things. Perhaps he'll let you stay with him."

She nodded, not protesting. The house was Harry's, and she lost her right to live in it when she betrayed him.

He went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea the Muggle way, his eyes lingering on the little needlework things Ginny had made to decorate their walls. In their cooling cabinet were the ingredients to a lavish meal he would probably end up eating alone. It would taste like sandpaper.

When he heard the twin cracks of their departure, he slowly slid down the wall he was leaning against and sat on the floor. He didn't cry, but he sat there in the darkening kitchen for several hours without moving.

He wanted to leave this place, this house filled to the choking point with memories of Ginny. They'd been married for six years, seven in August. It simply wasn't fair for things to end like this, so stupidly, but he supposed that he shouldn't be too surprised. They hadn't had a real conversation for weeks, and he found that he didn't really mind when she wasn't around.

Maybe their marriage had been over long before now, and he just hadn't noticed. Things had been busy at the office, and with fucking Malfoy as a co-worker, he'd been a lot more distracted than usual. He'd always been a workaholic, though. He felt insecure and useless when he wasn't working or doing something for someone else, and it was the insecurity that'd driven him to sacrifice himself so thoroughly to the cause and to eradicating Voldemort.

One that chapter of his life was over, he floundered helplessly for several months before working hard on his N.E.W.T.s and getting into the Auror program. From then on, things were a blur of missions and reports and getting promoted and trying to find a secretary that knew how to do her job. Somewhere in all that mess, Ginny came back into his life and all his old feelings for her swam to the surface. They married, and he supposed that they were happy.

Perhaps he had been the only one happy. Perhaps he hadn't been happy at all, and only went along with everything Ginny wanted to keep her happy. It wouldn't be the first time, and he knew himself well enough to expect that from himself.

He exhaled raggedly and fought back a wave of emotion. Did he even know who he was anymore?

~000~

End chapter 1

Tell me what you think. I need feedback to maintain the awesome, people. Oh, and I triple-promise that the rest of the story won't be so depressing.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Because no one seems to hate it, I am writing more. Huzzah?

Chapter 2

Harry quit his job at the Ministry a week later and sold his house at an exorbitant price to a salivating fan who desperately wanted to live where he'd lived. His sudden change of lifestyle shocked the Wizarding world, especially when news of his separation with Ginny slipped out somehow. He paid this no heed, departing the country the same day the sale of his home was finalized. All he took with him was his old school trunk, packed with what little memorabilia he had left and some simple Muggle clothing. He made arrangements with Gringotts to have access to his money while over seas, and set up a stipend for Ginny. She was still his wife, and her position on the Quidditch team only paid when she was actually playing, not during the off season.

These things in order, he left for America.

If you asked him why he chose to go to the States instead of somewhere closer and more reasonable like, say, France, he couldn't answer you. All he knew was that America was big but populated, that it had more climates and time zones than it knew what to do with, and that there were still places in it where no one went.

He wanted to find somewhere remote, someplace wooded with plenty of rain. He was English through and through, and a place without a regular rainfall could never feel like home.

His Portkey took him to the Adirondack Mountains of New York, since he'd always wanted to see mountains. After staying a month, he decided that the constant invisible weight of the mountains didn't suit him. He did research in travel magazines and books, trying to pinpoint a place that had a lot of greenery and rain.

The books agreed on one place: Washington State.

Because he never took magical travel methods if he didn't have to (he'd gotten no more graceful with practice), he elected to take the train. It would be a long journey, and an expensive one, but he had more money than he knew what to do with, and now he had time to match it.

Comfortably dressed, in perfect health, and a colored mist of vaguely happy thoughts floating about his head, Harry lost himself in the green scenery outside his window. The wrinkles fanning templeward from his eyes lent his face age he didn't feel, and the gentle furrows entrenched around his nose confused him when he glimpsed them in the mirrored reflection of the window. When had he grown into an adult, into a man?

This settled it. He was never going back to Britain or his previous lifestyle. He'd been living in workaholic land for so long he didn't even know his own face when he saw it.

He wasn't sure what he would do once he made it to Washington, since he liked to keep busy, but he was determined not to think about. He'd think about that later, when he had to.

~000~

Jacob stuffed the rejection letter in the garbage before Billy could see it. He hadn't told his dad that he was applying to colleges, trying to up his education so that he could be qualified for higher-paying work. The shop wasn't bringing in a lot of revenue, and he knew that they could lose their house in a few years if he didn't do something to bring in more money.

But even though he'd been studying whenever he had a chance, day after day rejection letters arrived. There was always community college, but the closest one only had technical degrees and was 4 hours away. Jacob loved to work with his hands, but he wasn't stupid. Those jobs rarely paid well, and everyone gets old eventually. He was hoping to get a white-collar job, one that would support him in his old age. Granted, until he imprinted, he had quite some time before he started aging, but the point stood.

He stared out the window, trying to rationalize his future. Blue hills greeted him, far off and veiled with rain. He turned away brusquely and went down to the basement to do some laundry.

Sorting the colored socks from the white ones so nothing would get inadvertently dyed, he pondered. If school didn't work out, he would have to start odd jobs on the weekends. This would mean leaving his dad alone more, unless he could get Quil to start coming over and lingering inconspicuously around the house when Jacob was away. His dad was a strong person on the inside, but he was getting old. Jacob's greatest fear was that one day he would come back from working in the shop and find out that his dad had had some kind of accident and killed himself.

He let out a breathless, lungless laugh. Every day things seemed more helpless, as if his mortal coil was strangling him. Finishing the laundry, he went back upstairs and outside to the shop.

Jacob needed to stop thinking so much before he did something stupid like contemplate suicide again.

~000~

Washington seemed to get outdoorsy people as tourists, though there were few in the winter, and their hiking gear reminded him of the 'camping trip from hell' of his youth. That had been over ten years ago, when things seemed so complicated and dramatic. Looking back, it was like it happened to someone else.

Pulling the collar of his coat up to protect his ears, he hunched and stuck his hands in his pockets.

Now that he was in Washington, choosing where in the state he would stay presented itself. He'd been dropped off in some place called La Push because they had beaches, but it looked pretty populated. He decided that he would think about that tomorrow, after spending the night in whatever local hospitality available.

He ended up staying at a cheap motel, since economizing was automatic after being friends with Ron for years. They had free breakfast in the morning, which was initially exciting but turned out to be packaged cold cereal and rotting fruit come morning. Afraid of what would happen if he drank the milk, he went out to a café that served breakfast instead.

Sitting in a booth in a corner out of habit, he perused the menu, curling his lip. He decided to order eggs on the way over, but what kind? God he hated this. There were millions of ways to cook eggs, and this menu seemed to have every single way listed. He tried skimming by price, though those were roughly even.

Finally he just closed his eyes and pointed at something. Opening them, he saw that he'd landed on waffles.

A waitress came over and he placed an order for the waffles and some coffee. He almost ordered tea, but chose coffee at the last minute. From what he'd heard, American tea was shit, so he might as well get used to life without it now rather than later. Sipping his coffee, he grimaced and added a considerable does of sugar. How was he going to stomach this black sludge? Gross.

His food arrived some time later, and he ate slowly, perusing his travel books. They weren't very forthcoming, both giving him the impression that Washington had a lot of natural wonders, but not giving him a lot of information on how one could begin a new life there and where the best place would be to do so.

The café was mostly empty, the only other patrons several elderly people and a college student or two. He liked it like this.

A bell taped to the top of the door jingled when someone stepped inside. Glancing up from his book, Harry had trouble returning his attention to serious matters. A positively massive young man had entered and seated himself at the counter. Wearing worn jeans and a flannel shirt, he was every inch the outdoors man, but several sizes bigger than normal.

Harry forced himself to stop staring, and gulped some coffee. He choked down his food, paid, and left. He couldn't concentrate with someone that distracting just sitting there eating three plates of pancakes in less than five minutes like it was the most normal thing in the world.

~000~

Jacob felt a curious pressure during the first few minutes of sitting in the café. He didn't normally eat out, so he couldn't out his finger on why, exactly, he'd felt like something very important was there, just out of his reach. The airlessness and the dull heat pressed upon his brain until finally it just left as suddenly as it had come. His ears dimly registered the sound of the door bell tinkling as someone left.

Once he could think straight again, he ordered a plate of bacon and flicked through the paper, looking for job offers. He needed something he could do to supplement their income, so maybe something on the weekends or at nights? The good thing was, he could always do the auto work at night if worst came to worst. If he got a 9 to 5 somewhere close where the commuting costs weren't too high, he could zip back home after work, make dinner for Billy, and then work in the shop until 10 or so, and still have time for an hour of patrol. And if things started to get slack in the shop, he could always take an additional job on the weekends.

His future was starting to look pretty depressing, and he took a moment to press the heels of his hands into his eyes. He didn't want to lose the house, he didn't want to let down his dad, and he definitely didn't want to be a little boy who couldn't the big bad world of grown ups. But he also didn't want to suffocate in a cubicle or at a desk somewhere. He was half-beast, for fucks sake! He didn't know how his furry side would react to being cooped up inside all day.

An ad caught his eye at the last minute. They asked for strong able-bodied men to help remodel houses, with no previous experience or training necessary! Squinting at the Lilliputian print, he made out that only a high school diploma was required as far as education went. He took a pencil out of his pocket and circled it several times, and then carefully read all the other ads in case there was something else.

There was a painting job, but that would only give sporadic work at best due to having to work around the rain all the time. Chewing his thumbnail, he circled it just in case. There was, of course, an ad for waiting on tables, but he knew that they would want an experienced worker so he left that one alone.

Feeling better now that he at least had some options, he arranged interviews with his two prospects. If he was lucky, neither of his potential bosses would be racist and hate the very sight of him.

Sitting in a plastic folding chair in the small office of the painting place, he learned that the painters only earned minimum wage. The middle-aged woman on the other side of the table scowled at him the entire time, having caught sight of his tattoo when he removed his flannel jacket (it was really just a shirt, but since it was February, he was determined to call it a jacket).

Obviously, she wouldn't be giving him a call later.

The second interview went much better. The man who owned the remodeling company, Greg, was an easy-going blonde of about 30 who was very passionate about his work. Jacob genuinely enjoyed talking with him and going over his résumé. He kept his jacket on just in case, though.

His good feeling about the interview was proved correct that night when Greg called and spent several minutes unprofessionally comparing Jacob to the other degenerates who'd tried to apply. According to Greg, Jacob was the only one out of the batch who didn't make him reach for his phone to call the cops.

He laughed against his will at that, mind flashing to just how much damage he could do in comparison with a mortal man. He'd continued to grow and grow all through his adolescence, and now stood proud at just an inch short of 7 feet tall. His wolf form could fill an average bedroom to the bursting.

Relieved and happy to know that he was employed, and that he would be starting work next week bright and early at four in the morning, he went about making dinner.

He decided not to tell Billy that he was working a second job to try and save up some money for tax season. It would only hurt him, and where was the point in that? It was bad enough that his dad couldn't understand why he wasn't out there trying to find his imprint.

How did you go about finding your soul mate anyway? He wasn't sure he wanted one. The whole process reeked of free will violations. Knowing that some of his friends had imprinted on children made him feel a bit nauseous, something that he avoided thinking about when they shared wolf bodies. He didn't want his opinions to dampen their personal paradise, no matter how wrong it looked.

Maybe after imprinting, he would understand.

~000~

Tromping around La Push, Harry decided that the area wasn't all that bad. He liked the climate, anyway, and the locals weren't bad people. Not as friendly as other places, but he wasn't looking to make friends. He caught a bus and just rode around looking at the places where it stopped, seeing what kinds of residential neighborhoods Washington available. If he missed his bus, he would just wait for a new one, spending the time looking over his books again and again. He took down the addresses of houses for sale that he liked the look of, not that there were many of those even after most of the day.

Ideally he would find house with a view of the water, and access to one of the many pebbled beaches, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.

Ditching the bus at last, he took off on foot. He'd checked out of his motel and taken his trunk with him that morning, so there was no reason not to camp out in the woods. He didn't like to be tied down, even to a motel.

It was getting dark and the sidewalks were muddy. He kept walking long after evening fell, stopping in a diner for a sandwich to go. On a whim, he headed into the forest.

He walked for hours and hours, deep into the woods. Finally, when his legs ached too much for him to go any farther, he stopped and was about to go about pitching a tent for the night when he spotted something distinctly not-tree against the horizon. It was within a reasonable distance, so he sucked it up and crossed the distance.

It was a house, though it didn't look like anybody was living in it. He looked around for a doorbell and couldn't find one, so he pounded on the door for a good five minutes before deciding that it was either uninhabited or possessed by someone who slept very soundly.

There was a shed against the side of the house, so he stepped inside and pitched his tent there. The house sheltered his tent from the wind and rain. Yes, he could use magic to fend them off, but he didn't like the groggy feeling using spells overnight gave him.

Settling in for the night, he put his hands behind his head and wondered if he would do anything exciting here or just melt into obscurity.

He decided that he wouldn't mind a little adventure, and maybe even some romance. His mind supplied an image of the hulking youth he'd seen in the café that morning, and he buried his face in his pillow, embarrassed with himself. He should've known that separating from Ginny would bring back what he'd thought was an episode of teenaged lust.

His dreams were fitful that night.

~000~

End chapter 2

Comments? Questions? Flattery? Review!

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	3. Chapter 3

A/N: We haven't even done anything fun yet, and this story has huge reviews and love pouring in! I am stunned, but very, very pleased. Oh, and if this is your first time with this pairing, please do check out my other fics featuring it: Please Say Something and Discovery.

Random: This has nothing to do with anything, but those of you out there who like web comics should check out Scary Go Round/Bad Machinery by John Allison. They're super fun and clever. And they're helpful if you want to write British but, you know, aren't actually British.

Chapter 3

Harry awoke groggy and unrested. His back and neck had fused together into an anchor-heavy mass, and just as unwieldy. Rolling onto his side, he tried to sleep some more since it wasn't even pale gray yet, but had no luck. Crawling out of his bedroll, he packed it and changed his shirt and socks. He pulled on his boots, and stepped outside of his tent. A twirl of his wand packed it, and he compressed it into a smaller shape before putting it in his lightweight pack.

Thrusting a hand out of the shed door, into the foggy unknown of the early morning, he flexed his fingers, waiting for rain. There wasn't any, only a fine mist. He stepped out and tilted back his head to inspect the sky. It was slate-colored and as flat as a mountain lake. It was cold out, but there wasn't much of a wind and he was still warm from his bedroll, so he didn't mind it enough to cast a charm.

Taking some steps back to get a better perspective, he sized up the house.

In the questionable light of the early morning, he could tell that it was definitely abandoned. Tramping around, he paced the front of the house and counted the windows and floors. According to his reconnoitering, it had at least three floors, not including the attic or the raised basement, which was made evident by the casements peeking out of the underbrush like timid eyes.

The front of the house had a small porch, the roof of which was a balcony. Craning his head back, he could see that there was a twin to the tower in the front of the building at the back. The house was painted a soft olive-like green, which was probably what helped it blend in so well with the trees. It was overgrown with bushes and vines of all sorts, and a massive apple tree had fused to the right side of it.

From what he could see, the roof was partially collapsed. There was a widow's walk.

All in all, it was very Victorian, very magical-like, and very lovely. Harry decided that this green house, set like a secret jewel in the hills and forests of this wild country, would be his new home. It was the perfect resting place. It was neither excitingly old, nor depressingly new.

Looking to the sides, he could see that there was the ghost of a property outline. A shambling gate of crumbly old bricks and the rusty remains of a fence were just behind him, mostly covered in moss now. The rest of the property was ringed in by especially large trees that he knew, thanks to a long friendship with Neville, were flowering bushes (that had grown so big they were trees now). But below those flowery beauties was some kind of dark scruffy bush.

There was something funny about the bushes lining the property. It wasn't until he crept close enough to inspect them, startling a rabbit, at close quarters that he discovered them to be yew. They were an Interesting choice for that time period, considering the Muggle superstitions about Yew. Those superstitions weren't unfounded, though. Yew was the best wood for making sharp stakes…for vampires…and things…

He frowned. No. He would have heard something, surely. But this was definitely the perfect place for a Vampire to roam! Locals sprinkled like dessert topping over a dense rainforest-like area where it rained almost every day, and clouds clustered in the sky even if the sky chose not to sob that day. It was worth sending a letter to Hermione and asking her to look into it, though. Just for peace of mind.

Without further ado, he ascended the steps and tried the doorknob. It was rusted shut or locked, he couldn't tell which. Stepping back, he looked from side to side and found a bay window. The glass was still intact, a miracle he wasn't expecting. With the wildlife, you'd think that a raccoon would have smashed it like the bandits they were. Or maybe an errant deer; something!

Trying the fastening, he got one to open wide enough for him to slip inside.

It was very dim inside, so he lit his wand and cast diagnostic spells on the floor to see if it could hold his weight. They came back positive, which was a huge relief. He didn't know the spells to fix something like that long-term, and he didn't want to go through that much inconvenience. Walls and ceilings were one thing, floors were another.

There were some pieces of furniture draped with sheets, which he left undisturbed.

The house was tall, but actually rather narrow. There was the front room, presumably for handing off one's coat to some servant, two rooms (parlors) out to either side, and then in the back was the kitchen, a bathroom, and a dining area. The steps leading upstairs were in the front room, made of thick and still-glossy oak. He trailed his fingers over the carvings, and got a splinter.

Upstairs, he found another bathroom, a study of some kind, and three bedrooms. There was also a sitting room attached to the doors that led out onto the balcony he'd seen from the front of the house. He went to the back of the house and found a large window. It was so smeared with dust that he couldn't see out over the yard. Opening the window, he discovered a noisy tree and a dark backyard too foggy to perceive any clearer. How disappointing. His curiosity would have to wait.

He went up the last flight of stairs and found two big storerooms, presumably meant for seasonal and permanent storage, though he didn't have the energy to find out what was under the sheets. There was so much dust; he would have to be in a special mood to go digging through there.

Other than the store rooms, there were three small bedrooms and a bathroom with a copper basin big enough for a full-grown man. These had once been the servant's quarters, he presumed. At the end of the passage way dividing the living areas from the storage was a bricked up section. He prodded it absently with his finger, finding it quite solid.

Walking back down the stairs, he realized that he hadn't been able to get into either of the towers. He shrugged it off, deciding to worry about that later.

All that was left was the backyard. Maybe there would be a garden.

Glass doors like those that led onto the balcony stood between him and the garden. Removing the closings entirely with his wand, he stepped out onto a broad patio. There were magnolia trees and yew bushes in the back, wild and covered with creeping ivy and brambling thorns from the revolting roses. The roses had their roots in ornamental beds also filled with towering hollyhocks and foxgloves. They were wilted and frosted now, but still beautiful.

Oh, he _liked _this house. Ringed in yew, smothered in majestic swaying trees, and surrounded by blue-veiled hills, it was like a nest.

After he was done touring the house and had breakfasted on dried fruit and nuts from his pack, he found a sheeted sofa by a large window that had some weak natural light. Leaving the sheet on, merely spelling it clean, he settled in to relax for a while.

He spent the morning half-lazy, half-instructive, looking over his books.

Sometimes he would look up when he needed to process, and look at the raindrops against the window. A rillet would snake down the glass, stop hesitantly, and then again resume its quick downward zigzag course.

After a while he got hungry for lunch. Mentally reviewing his lunch options, he decided that he wasn't interested in a protein bar for main course. Looking out the window again, he assessed his willingness to brave the wild again. Finding the house again would be no problem with all that yew, but a simple leyline attached to the location would solidify his connection to the property.

"Oh, it's just a drizzle," he mumbled to himself, deciding that it was worth it. He left his books and any other non-necessary items. If he was detained, he would still be able to survive, but this way there wasn't as much strain on his magic to keep everything lightweight and concealed from Muggles.

Stepping outside, he stepped back and back and back until he was far enough from the property to see how the landscaping marked out the exact dimensions. He enlarged them some to include an apple orchard and a green house as well as several sheds in the distance that had escaped his notice previously. Double-checking to make sure that there were no other bits of property he was missing, he laid the leyline.

The land greedily soaked up his magic, and he smiled when he felt the yew bushes fasten securely onto it. Good old yew; full of personality.

~000~

Jacob was back in La Push, working on an assignment from Greg. There was some couple that had somehow punched through their wall in several places and needed the holes filled and the wall re-painted. Jacob tried to explain to Greg that he had zero experience, but a tub of some kind of plaster was shoved into his hands along with a scraping brush. He was told to work out the paint color and type with the couple and that there were rollers and brushes in the back of the company van.

Feeling like he'd had rocks for breakfast, he drove to the appointed location and inspected the damage. Judging by the bruised look of the young people, these holes had a casualty of some sort of brawl between them. He avoided eye contact after coming to that conclusion and read the instructions on the tub of plaster super carefully.

Oh. Now that he'd read it, it seemed easy enough.

His prediction turned out to be correct, and he finished painting in two hours. He was back in time for lunch, and was told by Greg that he didn't have to back until three. Since it was close, he decided to go and visit Charlie after lunch. Because it was convenient, he ended up at the famous Forks diner, land of delicious peach crumbles that put even Emily to shame.

~000~

Because La Push turned out to be far, far away and all the towns he passed through were crap, he almost apparatated to the city. But just as he was considering that, he strolled past a sign that announced he was entering the town of Forks. The title was just to amusing for him to pass up a visit. There was a diner that looked clean enough, so he settled in for a warm non-travel-food meal.

They had the New York Times, his favorite thanks to Hermione and her taste in foreign newspapers, so he bought a copy. The diner was busy and customers were being seated with strangers to cut down on the weight, and he was lucky to only be seated with one other person. Too distracted with his newspaper, he didn't immediately take stock of the stranger.

Halfway through his chips, referred to as 'fries' here, he was asked if he could pass the salt. He glanced up as he did so, and raised his eyebrows when he recognized who it was. It was the giant from yesterday! And, unlike what he'd expected, he didn't look like Crabbe or Goyle in the face.

"Thanks."

Harry nodded amiably and immersed himself in his paper. It was rude to stare, and he knew he would start to stare if he didn't occupy himself. The words swam together at first, but he applied his will and they became neat columns again.

"Do I know you? Sorry to interrupt, but you seem familiar."

Harry shook his head, "That's impossible. I just got here a few days ago, and I haven't been to the same place twice."

He nodded, "Oh. Cool. Just wondering."

Harry smiled, "its fine."

They went back to their eating, but then Harry thought of something and had to ask, "Say, you're local, right?" the giant nodded, "I just got a house, and it's a little…well, it needs some work. Nothing serious, just surface stuff like polishing up the wood and getting things re-painted and –papered. I think the back yard also needs some serious pruning, but I'm still thinking about that one. Do you know anyone around here that does renovations?"

He perked up, "Dude, you are so talking to the right person. I work for a renovation company! We're pretty cheap, we do a good job, and we're versatile. If you work with us, you won't have to hire separate people to paint, sand your floors, polish or re-apply finish, and carpet."

Harry's eyes went wide, "Seriously? That _is _lucky, innit? Do you have a card?"

"I sure do," the giant handed a card over, and then held out his hand for Harry to shake, "I'm Jacob, by the way. Jacob Black."

"Pleasure. I'm Harry Potter."

~000~

End chapter 3

And so a beautiful friendship is born…the kind where the friends sleep together, and do other romantical things.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: FYI, Jake has not and will not imprint until I say so. Don't want to be a bitch, but come on guys. You'll _know _when loves strikes. He's just infatuated with an attractive stranger right now.

Chapter 4

Jacob Black officially had a crush, on a guy. This was so uncool that he didn't know what to do about it. Keep it himself? Tell Leah? She did insist that he could come to her with anything and that she would listen without laughing at least until he was finished talking. He knew, logically, that it was healthy to talk about things and not just keep them cooped up in his brain where they could pervert and become thought weeds.

But how did you bring this up in casual conversation?

He was at home this time instead of the library, having given up on applying to schools until next year, and Leah invited herself over for dinner. Seth was coming over later too. Jacob wondered if this new thing with Harry Potter would affect his attraction to Seth. Hopefully yes. He didn't want to go there with Leah breathing down his neck and routinely threatening to chop off his manly bits if he fucked it up.

Finally, he worked up his nerve. They stood side by side in his tiny kitchen, chopping onions to fry with their fish.

"Leah?"

"Hm?" she hummed, glancing up. She straightened when she saw the nerves practically pouring off of him, "Jake? Is something wrong?"

"No, not _wrong_, per se, just…different. Remember how you said I could talk to you about stuff?"

She put down her knife and jammed her hands onto her hips, "Did you do something stupid?"

"No! Jesus, why do you always assume that I've done something wrong?" he peevishly retorted, furiously chopping his onion and moving onto the green peppers. She smirked at his hunched shoulders and slapped the back of his head.

"I was just saying! There's no need to be shitty. Now, tell me what's going on."

He sighed and slowed his chopping pace to one more reasonable and less likely to cost him his fingers.

"I met a boy, a man."

She gave him a devious look that sent unpleasant shudders down his spine, "Oh really," she drew out the 'L', "And where did you meet this boy-man? Did you get his number? Is he coming over? Can I meet him?"

"Stop with the questions before I go insane, please," Jake gritted out, sending her a dirty look, "Anyway, I meet him when I was on my lunch break, and no I didn't get his number."

"Oh, you didn't get his number, did you?" Leah sniffed sarcastically, "Then how, Mr. Genius Man, do you intend to ever see him again in your life?"

He rolled his eyes, "I'm not that stupid! I gave him my card. See, he just moved here and he has this house in the middle of nowhere that needs some work. I told him that my company would be happy to service him, and he was really grateful."

Leah was unimpressed, "What does he look like?"

"Um, he's got nice eyes, wears glasses, tall, on the thinner side...and he's English."

"English?" she popped a piece of onion into her mouth, indicating the frying vegetables, "you should stir that. So, like, is he cute?"

"Obviously! And he was really nice too."

"Cuter than my brother?"

Leah didn't notice Seth come in behind her, but Jacob did. Seth looked confused and embarrassed, so Jake covered, "No one is cuter than Seth. He's the pack mascot!"

Her brows drew together, and she subtly sniffed. Catching her brother's scent, she turned and smiled at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He tried to dodge, but she was faster and rumpled it until he hissed at her like a cat. She laughed and lunged in for a hug. This he evaded, moving to hide behind Jacob.

Jacob hardly noticed, shocked to discover that the growing attraction to Seth that had been coiling in his chest was suddenly gone, as if it had never existed. That place was filled to the brim with Harry now, a near stranger. Somehow he didn't mind the mind-invasion.

Outside the window, an orange sunset smoldered beneath a black thunderhead already dribbling rain.

~000~

"_Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player_

_That struts and frets his hour upon the stage_

_And then is heard no more: it is a tale_

_Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury_

_Signifying nothing" –Shakespeare's Hamlet_

Harry read those lines dispassionately and then closed the book without bothering to read what came next. He'd stopped by the library and picked up a near cartload of books to amuse himself with. Now that he had peace and time to reflect on things, he wasn't sure what to do with his time. What did he used to do, when he was young? He couldn't remember. Years of stress and fighting and then paper work had worn him down until he wasn't sure he was enjoying himself.

It was nice to finally read the 'Classics' that Hermione was always going on about, and they were entertaining, but he wasn't sure he could do this forever.

The sunset was beautiful tonight, from what little he could see below the cloud cover. He just sat, alone, and watched it until the last rays of purple disappeared. Darkness settled like a thick woolen blanket over everything. He flicked his fingers, igniting the candles piled on every available surface of the house.

It was unlikely that electricity could be harnessed and wired into this house, since it had preceded that particular phase of genius. The fact that it was in the middle of a forest with not even a path leading to it was also an obstacle.

He decided that he didn't mind, because the ambiance of the candles was kind of nice and he could make sure that they didn't set fire to anything. They cast warm golden glows and soft shadows over everything. Book on his chest, Harry surveyed his kingdom and saw that it was beautiful.

Bored now, he went into the kitchen and poured himself a tumbler of brandy. He had to conjure the tumbler, since he hadn't purchased dishes yet. Popping two sugar cubes into it, he nursed it. On a whim, he started opening the high cupboards of the kitchen. They were largely empty, though there was a mousetrap in one and a paper-wrapped block of salt in another. A cockroach waved its feelers at him from a third. Harry scowled but let it live.

There was an old-fashioned cooling cupboard, free-standing with the original basin meant to hold the blocks of ice intact, though cracked a little.

He tired of the kitchen quickly, with its empty shelves and pantry. Finishing his brandy and vanishing the tumbler, he cast about for a new area of the house to tramp through. Like an eidolon, the image of the bricked-up section of the house rose before his eyes.

Why, exactly, were the towers bricked up with their windows boarded up?

Mystery in mind, wand in hand, he tromped through the house to the front tower. You would normally be able to access it from the left front parlor, were it not blocked. Moving a sofa to the side, he laid his hands on the wallpaper covering it up. Behind the plaster and paper, he could feel the little bumps of the mortar connecting the bricks. Stepping back, he examined the wall. It was flawless. If he hadn't seen the bricks upstairs, he wouldn't know there was a tower here.

He went back to the back room where he'd sort of set up camp (he planned to sleep on the sofa that night because the beds upstairs were missing mattresses) and dug through his pack until he found his knife.

If the paper was prettier, he would have felt some remorse for this, but it was just a dull floral of faded blue. He slashed through the paper, outlining a doorway-shaped rectangle. Gripping the top, he jerked and tore it downwards. Behind it was brown plaster, stained with age. He hacked at this with his knife until it started to crack and then crumble in some sections. He attacked there and spread them until there was a small mountain of rubble at his feet and a big enough hole for him to examine the bricks.

Unlike the plaster, the bricks looked sturdy. He stepped back and strategized.

A blasting spell would be too powerful and could accidentally smash whatever was behind the bricks, so that was out. Maybe a dissolving spell on the mortar? No, that wouldn't work because then it would seep down through the floorboards and do god knows what to the basement below, which he still hadn't ventured into.

Actually, come to think of it, he hadn't been able to find an entrance to the basement.

With a frown, he left the bricked-up tower and did another search of the house. He came up empty. There was no way to access the raised basement with its boarded-up casements. He returned to the mess in the parlor and stared at the bricks.

This was weird, and he knew there was something he wasn't quite connecting. Yew bushes, remote location, steady cloud-cover, lots of wildlife…bricked up towers and blocked basements…salt in the cupboards.

He gnawed on his knuckle and tried to think. His teeth broke the skin, and he tasted blood. That copper taste shocked his brain into realization, and he reeled a little.

_Vampires._

And not just Vampires in the general area; Vampires had or were _here, _in his house.

Harry objurgated himself for not seeing it sooner.

He dashed into the kitchen and tore open the paper covering the salt. Using his knife, he stabbed off a chunk and held it tightly in his hand. Armed with the salt, his wand, and the knife, he headed outside into the rain to the nearest yew bush.

He hacked off a bramble-covered branch and sprinted back inside, locking the door behind him with a spell.

Alone in his favored room, he sat on the floor and began to carve the branch from a wild thing into a sharp stake. In addition to the big one, he made several smaller dart-sized ones and pocketed them. Using the salt like chalk, he marked out the dimensions of the room, making sure to include the bathroom.

Tense as a bowstring and bulgy-eyed, he didn't even try to sleep and spent the night reading. If he was lucky, tomorrow the sun would come out just for a bit, long enough for him to safely open up the tower and see what was inside.

Hopefully there would be nothing, hopefully it was just his paranoia, and hopefully he wouldn't be drained of blood to quench some monster's hunger.

~000~

End chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Yes, two updates in one day. I had a lot of free time today.

Chapter 5

As per his wishes, the sun gleamed its way through the sky the next day. It was weak, and seen through a haze of clouds that grew thick and purple along the horizon, but it was enough. Harry searched the attic for mirrors and moved several the largest down to the parlor. Arranging them to reflect the light in powerful beams against the bricks, he began to chisel the bricks apart.

It was hard work, but he dared not use magic and he could use the exercise. Walking was fine and all, but some heavy lifting is always good to have in one's repertoire of exercises. After a sweaty half-hour, his back damp with drops of fear and exertion, he had made a window-sized block.

A gust of dead air soared out at him, and he choked a little, covering his mouth with his sleeve. He took a step back and nearly tripped over the pile of bricks. He vanished them with a slick move, and peered at what he could see. Even with the strong light of the mirrors, he wasn't sure he was seeing what he was seeing at first.

They were books; rows and rows of them, arranged along the circular room beyond the bricks. He frowned. What kind of maniac boarded up a library? He chuckled and started to relax. His calm was shattered violently by a low voice quietly requesting,

"Excuse me, but could you perhaps remove your sun lamps? They are making me quite uncomfortable."

Letting out a yell, he aimed his wand at the hole and fired off a Stunner on reflex. It shattered several more bricks, and there was a quiet hiss from inside.

"Do you _mind?"_

"Yes!" Harry shouted, not realizing that he was raising his voice. This always happened when he got stressed, "I do bloody well mind! What kind of person…thing startles a person like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Belatedly, he realized that he was shouting at a Vampire instead of staking it. He also realized that it hadn't come charging through the opening, aiming for his throat. That might have had something to do with the sunlight.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

There was a coy snicker from the sexless creature, "_Your_ house? My dear human, you are quite mistaken. This is _my_ house. I have lived peacefully in this house for the past nearly-200 years, and I don't intend to be evicted by some street charlatan."

Harry's temper swelled, but the thing did have a valid point. Widening his stance, he interrogatively asked, "What's your name?"

"Cui bono?"

Harry frowned before remembering that that meant 'for whose benefit', "Because I want to know who I'm talking to."

"You first; tell me about you, and then maybe I'll tell you about me."

There was something incredibly childish about this conversation.

"I am called Harry. I've recently moved from England, following a separation from my spouse of some years. I am 29 years old, and currently unemployed. Your turn," he said all of this in his curtest, most professional tone, arms crossed.

"Remove the mirrors and draw the drapes first, please," The voice sounded more civil this time, now that half of an introduction had been played out. Harry hesitated, felt the heavy weight of the largest stake tucked through his belt loop, and then told the thing he would be back in a moment.

Going into the kitchen, he hacked off another piece of salt. Returning to the parlor, he asked if they were still there and received an affirmative murmur. He drew a circle for him to stand in later, and shut the drapes with his wand so he wouldn't have to leave the circle.

He lit a candle in the gloom, and waited impatiently, stake in hand.

A yellowish white hand crept cautiously out, and then became bolder when it was not immediately singed by the sun. Harry watched guardedly as a dark-clad arm followed, and then a shoulder inched into sight. Finally a head peeked around the corner.

He raised his eyebrows. It was female! From the sound of their voice, he'd assumed that it was a man. Her smile formed two sickle-shaped indents on either side of her thin lips.

"My name is Sylvie."

Her hair was white, her skin was white with a hint of yellow, like cream that was going a little rotten, and she was bone thin. Her face was almost grotesque in its slendarity, but it retained a look of refinement and fascination. Her eyes were red, of course, but dulled and a little glassy.

For an instant the candle seemed to lay bare her face, flowing over her still-smooth cheeks and lending artificial warmth to her eyes.

He swallowed, and she nodded to him before slinging one leg over the ledge and then the other. She slithered out and landed lightly on the dusty floor. He held out the stake where she could see it, and she pursed her lips.

"Why do we have to start things off so nastily? I won't hurt you."

He snorted, "Don't patronize me. I can tell it's been a very long time since you last fed. Why lock yourself up like that for hundreds of years, with no source of nourishment?"

A flick of her head swished her white hair over her shoulder, "That is my business. I am very strong for my kind, and I can last an extremely long time without feeding. And for your information, I provided myself with a tunnel out into the wilderness. I just choose not to eat more than two or three times per century. I consider it a waste of human life when I don't need the food. My mother always said waste no, want not."

He was impressed despite himself. There were little notes in the advanced manuals on Vampires (manuals he would rather not have read, but Luna was insistent) about variations of the breed. There were Vampires so weak they could only live for a few months, and some so strong they withstood thousands upon thousands of years. There were even some that could survive in the sun, though that breed was actually looked down upon by others of their kind because their imperviousness to the sun had been gained by breeding with rock giants.

"So, what breed are you?"

She lifted her chin and gave him a smirk, "I was a witch in my day, known for my self-control and acts of political activism through hunger strikes. I guess the virus infected that section of me and enlarged it, allowing me to last through long dry periods. I don't really mind; after all, I took the virus of my own free will, though it cost me my magic."

Harry's eyebrows skyrocketed. "What? Why?" he spluttered.

She sighed and leaned against the shredded wallpaper, "That's a long story, and it has nothing to do with you, young man. Now that we have made our acquaintance, I suggest we part ways. Kindly replace the bricks that shield me from the sun."

Turning her back to him, she started to crawl back inside her library.

He raised his hands, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You want me to just tuck you back into your exile, and forget this ever happened? I'm sorry, but I don't intend to leave this house, and I don't know if I'm comfortable with this arrangement. I mean, you're nice enough and obviously not going to eat me, so why can't we be friends?"

Once the words left his mouth, he couldn't believe what he'd said.

It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. She looked him over calculatingly, making a humming sound. Finally, she asked, "I don't object to you living here, and I will do my best to be an agreeable landlady…On one condition."

Shrugging, he indicated that he would love to hear what it was.

"You have to pay rent in the form of alcohol and cigarettes. And not the cheap kind, neither! I expect the very finest distilled, and I will know if the tobacco is classless."

"I can live with that, though why those things? I mean, can't you body only handle blood?"

She waved a hand, "That's an idiotic rumor. I like a rare steak once in a while, and I love a good drink. As for smoking, why not enjoy the pleasures of tobacco when one's lungs no longer breathe air to survive?"

"…Oh. Right, then."

With a final imperious look, she disappeared into the gloom of her study, calling after her, "I request that you keep the drapes in that parlor drawn, please. The rest of the house is yours to do with as you wish, but keep that room dark so I am not struck by the sun."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, casting a solidifying spell on the curtains so they would fossilize, forming a solid wall over the windows. The gloom intensified, and he sighed. This was an extremely unexpected turn of events, but at least he had company now.

Heading outside, he cast training spells on the ivy and brambles to coax them to cover the tower completely. They obediently moved from the ground and the porch to encircle the towers and clog the casements of the basement. He nodded, pleased with his handiwork.

This way, when he called Jacob in to help him fix up the place, he wouldn't see the boarded up windows. Back inside, he examined the door to the room and considered before closing it and looking at the wall. Maybe he could hang a curtain across…he saw something like that in one of those home furnishings magazines. If he put a distracting end table here, it would disguise that he wasn't using this part of the house.

He'd worry about it later, along with the fact that he'd gone from being king of his castle to having a creepy landlady who could give a skeleton reason to be jealous.

He groaned and had brandy for breakfast.

~000~

Jacob was getting jumpy. It had been half a week since he gave Harry his number, and he still hadn't called! He knew that he was being ridiculous, that Harry was probably just settling in still, but he didn't like the possibility that Harry wouldn't call at all.

Despite his jumpiness, he'd been doing really well at work. He was learning everything really fast, and Greg told him that he was a natural do-it-your-self person. This shouldn't have been so surprising, since he'd always been good with his hands, but he was still very flattered and pleased with himself.

With his new schedule, he was actually sleeping better because of the exhaustion. Billy warned him not to get over-tired, so Jacob gave up a lot of opportunities to socialize with his friends outside of patrol in order to go to bed earlier. Things were picking up in the shop, and things were a lot less tense between him and the Pack now that he didn't have to guard his thoughts about Seth.

Having Harry to fixate on made things easier and harder at the same time. Why wouldn't he just call already?

He'd never been especially patient, except with Bella. Even then, he'd sort of known that was a battle he was going to lose.

Frustrated, he scraped especially hard at the paint of some lady's shed. He still needed to finish scraping before he could prime, find something to do while he waited for it to dry, and then paint it. Maybe he could ask her if there was anything else around that she needed fixing?

He blushed when, unbidden, the memory of some cheesy porno Quil forced him to watch in Junior High flitted to the forefront of his mind. He'd never tell anyone this, but that porno film had been the first time he'd had thoughts about what he was attracted to. Unable to focus on beach ball-sized tits in favor of a naked man is kind of a huge sign that you're a little different from other 14-year-old boys.

His scraper slipped and cut his pinky. He sucked on it until the bleeding stopped (about 2 seconds) and continued.

From the window of her house, Katie watched this with admiration. Who knew her husband's laziness could pay off in stupidly attractive young handymen tromping around the house. She watched him for some time more before going into her bedroom to change into something more scandalous.

He was young, temptable. She intended to find out just how weak his will was.

When Jacob had finished priming and scraping and prepared everything so that he could paint immediately when the primer dried, he sat back on his heels and admired his handiwork. Greg was right- it looked really good. He was really good at this.

It wasn't that he was insecure, he just…okay, he was insecure and he liked affirmation. He liked knowing for sure that he was doing a good job, that he was appreciated. Billy had never been one for compliments, and the most a report card of straight A grades would get was a grunt.

He sighed and went up to the door, knocking on the frame instead of using the bell. He didn't want to disturb her unless she was around.

The door opened immediately, and she greeted him with a smile. He smiled nervously back, a cold feeling spreading in his lower stomach when he took stock of her costume change. Had he somehow given a sort of signal that he was interested in her like…that? Because he wasn't interested, and now this was going to be really awkward. How did you turn someone down in a professional way? He wished he had job training for sexually deviant housewives.

Pursing his lips, he braced himself for a strained two hours.

~000~

End chapter 5

LOL to the Cullens being Trolls, for those of you who missed that 'subtle' joke.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was a brilliant moonlit night. Ophiuchus, the constellation of a man holding a snake was visible through the undraped windows of the rest of the house.

When darkness had fallen, Sylvie emerged from her lair once more and waited for him to sweep away the salt so she could pass into the rest of the house. Harry didn't banish it with magic because he wasn't sure what kind of salt it was; some kinds are inherently magical and twist spells aimed at them.

Salt cleared, they sat in the other parlor adjacent to what Harry mentally titled 'Sylvie's Lair' and made martinis.

"So…" Harry started, looking up at Sylvie. She raised her eyebrows, lighting her eighth cigarette that hour. Harry was happy he'd bought in bulk, or else she would have run out ages ago and started yelling at him or something. "I've been wondering something, and you don't have to answer if it's a personal question."

She waved him on.

"Why do you have so many deadly things around you?"

"What do you mean?"

He gestured at the salt he'd swept into a corner on the floor and at the windows, "The salt, the yew bushes, the windows. I even found some real silver silverware in the attics. Why have this stuff around you when you know it can kill you?"

She chuckled, sounding remarkably like an older Auror Harry used to work with named Fipps. He'd been a heavy smoker too, rarely seen without his pipe in his mouth. Of course, Fipps turned out to be embezzling the Ministry later on and was subsequently fined and fired, but he was still a nice person.

"For protection of course, and a tactical advantage; Vampire on Vampire crime is common, you know, so it's good to have a trick up your sleeve. When your life span stretches on indefinitely into the future, it's easy to lose your head. Some get so bored that they pick fights just to add some interest. Not everyone turned to my kind is an intellectual with the mental energy to survive a long and quiet life."

Harry frowned, "I get that, but what good is a stake if a single splinter can poison you? And you can't use salt-"

"No-o-o-o," she said, drawing in her lips and shaking her head. "You're wrong. I have a pair of dragon-hide gloves that I use when handling those. The silver is for desperate situations, and I have to wear several layers of cloth over my entire body to prevent it from killing me should my hand slip. The salt only stings and restrains."

"Oh. Well, that's clever of you. But how much of a threat is there of that kind of thing out here? It seems pretty safe."

He reached for the vodka and started to make himself a third martini. He was out of ice, so he conjured some. Popping an olive in his mouth, he waited for her to sort her thoughts out before replying.

"It is now, yes, but it wasn't always like this. Long ago, this was the roaming place of many sorts of creatures, benign and malicious," her eyes became distant, and a little smile played about her thin lips, "Yes, it was as wild a place as you'd ever find. Dangerous, but beautiful. There was a lot of fighting, and eventually kinds began to migrate or die off. The fairies were the first to go. They were preyed on by everyone, and backed into a corner every moment of their short lives. Only a few of them survived to find shelter elsewhere. The centaurs left next, claiming that the stars were more visible in the plains. And so it went, year after year some new group vanishing with hardly a trace. And then the people started to arrive. There were indigenous peoples, yes, called Indians by the foolish explorers of this land. Those peoples didn't interfere with us, and we did not feed from their flesh for this. I could not expect the same respect from others of my kind. Because of my unusual talent of fasting, I was seen as rather unusual. The breeds most common here were of the coarser, thirstier type so terrible to humans. They delighted in hurting others and drank with the recklessness of bacchantes. It was sickening, and when they turned on me, I used any means necessary to protect myself. That meant building a fortress disguised as a human house and planting the yew. I sharpened new stakes every night, and once buried 40 of my kind in one night. It was a dark time for me, and once the fighting subsided and faded away, I locked myself inside."

Harry soaked this in, sipping his drink. He set it down, making a ring of condensed water on the uncarpeted part of the floor, "That's kind of sad. The creatures of today are so hunted and hated by so many; fighting amongst themselves is just awful."

She nodded solemnly, "Yes, it is something that brings me a great heaviness inside. There is nothing to be done, though. They are dead now, and will stay buried in the earth. Nomads pass through here sometimes- I can smell their cheap stench in the air, their lust for murder. The few times I feed, I remain vigilant for their presence. None of discovered me yet, but should they do so, I will kill them without another thought."

Harry flinched against his will, and then nodded, "I think that would be the only thing you could do. You can't change some things about people. Or Vampires, I mean."

They drank in silence for a while until Harry asked, "You talk about a lot of time…how old are you, exactly? If you don't mind my asking, that is."

"A bagatelle; I have lost track of my precise age, but I was born in the 1400s, in a small fishing village in Sweden, during the first wave of the plague. It was not a pleasant time for Pureblood or Mudblood. Nasty, very nasty."

He nodded, having no idea what she was talking about. History had never been his strong suit, unless it was directly connected to Voldemort. He changed the subject and they chatted about what life was like so long ago, and how she'd been the first woman to stand up for Creature rights. Harry told her about his life, and she was amazed at everything he'd survived. When he was done, her eyes sparkled and she nicknamed him Saint Harry the Conqueror.

It was getting closer to dawn now, so he finally asked her about the house.

"Do you mind if I have the house fixed up? You know, get plumbing installed and such?"

She sat back a little, considering it, "Would I be disturbed/"

"No, I'd make sure that all that was done is some rudimentary plumbing and polishing. I can say that your parts of the house are structurally unsound, but that I don't have the heart to tear them down."

"That is a good lie. How many workmen were you going to bring in?" she poured herself a shot of whiskey and downed it. Harry winced. If he tried that, his stomach would curdle and reject it.

"Just one; I met him a few days ago, and he seemed reliable. If he isn't, then I will just figure out how to do everything myself, though that would take longer."

"It's fine with me, then. I do want fair warning before he comes here, in case I am out of my study," lounging on the floor now, she rolled her head from side to side, stretching out her neck. Harry watched with tired eyes, wondering if he was going to become officially nocturnal, and a drunk at that. He hoped not. That would make some things very inconvenient. Sylvie was a terrible influence on him.

"Does this count as fair warning? I'm going to see if I can get him to come over this Thursday to assess the house."

"Thursday it is."

He rolled back to lounge as well, enjoying the thick pile of the carpet he'd unrolled hours earlier. Looking over at his landlady, he idly noticed that there was a trio of diamond studs in her auricular. They winked at him, growing hazy and aureoled as he slipped off into sleep.

~000~

Jacob did a little dance the second he rattled the cradle of the phone. Harry called! And he wanted him to come by tomorrow!

Greg wandered into the office just as Jacob let out a little whoop, and both froze with intense embarrassment. Jake bit his lip, and Greg avoided eye contact, slurping noisily at his cheap coffee.

"Uh, that was a client. He wants me to come by tomorrow to see what all needs to be done on his house."

Greg nodded, "Great, good. I'm sure you'll do a good job."

Jacob almost left to go organize their paint supplies, but remembered something Harry mentioned at the last minute, "Oh! I won't need the truck, by the way. There are no roads to his house; it's in the middle of nowhere, so I'll just walk the whole way."

He raised his eyebrows, "Are you sure it's safe? He's not just some weirdo trying to get you alone so he can attack you?"

That wouldn't be a problem for Jacob, seeing as he could turn into a giant wolf in the twinkling of an eye. But that was not something he could tell a layperson. He just looked at his boss, and let Greg take in how broad his shoulders were, his hands like hams, and the fact that he had to crouch inside most houses.

"Uh, never mind."

Jake felt awkward now, so he just left.

He could barely wait for tomorrow! But…what if Harry _was _a creep that wanted to attack him in the middle of nowhere? It seemed unlikely, but what kind of house was so remote there wasn't even a footpath to it? Harry was meeting him at a gas station to guide him there personally so he wouldn't get lost.

That was pretty weird, though he felt kind of jealous too. He wished he lived that far away from people. It would be nice to be left alone, to get some peace of mind. In all the chaos of keeping tempers down in the Pack, of protecting his Reservation and supporting his family, sometimes he just needed to get away from it all. The only way he kept sane was to take advantage of those quiet moments when he was doing nothing. Like while he waited for water to boil, when he waited for a light to change, or when there was a pause in the conversation.

Moments like that also helped him remember how beautiful life was. He hadn't imprinted yet, so who knew how long he'd live.

He paused in his sorting and swallowed. He tried not to dwell on that, but it was quickly becoming obvious that the Clearwaters and he were the only ones yet to find mates. Seth was a little young to start worrying about that, and he was dating local girls to try and get some experience handling girls. But Leah and him, they were still left standing there alone. And he knew that he wouldn't imprint on her. They weren't right for each other, and they both knew it. She was also a lot older than him, and sometimes made cultural references he didn't understand because they were from her generation and not his.

He worried about Leah. Sure, she was a royal bitch to a lot of people a lot of the time; however, she was also an intelligent and loving person. She just showed it in different ways. She deserved someone who would appreciate her loyalty and strength.

Grumbling about how girly he sounded, he got up and went about setting their entire stock of tools and supplies in order. What else did he have to do with himself before he could go home for the night?

Half an hour later, the same housewife who made a pass at him earlier called and said she needed her door hinges greased.

He groaned and stomped out to the truck. That lady just wouldn't get the picture! Why couldn't she see that he just wasn't interested?

~000~

End chapter 6

I apologize for being a teeny bit snippy in review replies. I am stressed –sadface-


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I saw 'Inception' recently and thought it was great, though the soundtrack needed some variety. If you like dreams and sci-fi, go see it!

Chapter 7

Harry paced around the rooms of the first floor of the house. He would jerk a sheet off of an ancient easy chair, cover it back up, and then do the same thing to a sideboard in the dining room.

Finally the alarm he'd set his wand to alert him with went off and he grabbed his pack and set off on his usual route through the woods towards the edge of the forest. Jacob would be there in a few hours, waiting to be guided back, and Harry wanted to pick up some groceries first.

Looking up at the rumbling sky, a drop of water landed on his nose. He smiled and then tripped on a slippery bit of moss, falling flat on his face. A twig speared his thigh.

"Ow! Son of a mother-"

Scrambling onto his feet, he tried to walk and fell over again.

Oh, this was perfect. A twisted ankle, on today of all days, was absolutely wonderful.

Sitting on the forest floor, he looked around and tried to strategize. He reached into his pack after a moment and pulled out his first aid kit. Inside were some potions for numbing and sanitizing in addition to the basic supplies for bandaging and dressing wounds. He squeezed his ankle to measure the pain and winced. It wasn't strong enough to warrant a pain-killer, but he could spare the gauze to wrap it.

It took the entire roll to straighten and steady his leg. Putting away his kit, he looked around for a stick to use as a crutch. There was one within arm's length, but it was too rotted to support him.

He ended up crawling a good distance before he came across a stick strong enough. Hobbling the rest of the way as fast as he could, he finally broke through the tree cover. The rain, which had previously filtered down as a drizzle through the branches of the trees, turned out to be a downpour. He was soaked completely within seconds.

Jacob was waiting against the side of the out-of-business bakery, the closest landmark to the forest.

Harry approached slowly, picking his way through the pitted asphalt. A pothole concealed as a puddle nearly made him twist his other ankle.

Jacob looked up when he smelled someone approaching, though their identity was suppressed by the rain. Turning to the right, he saw a hooded finger stumbling through the rain with the assistance of a stick. Concerned for the stranger, he sprinted to their side and helped the rest of the way to the shelter of the bakery's awning by carrying them. The stranger was trying to protest, and Jacob realized that he recognized their voice.

Under the shade of the awning, the figure removed their hood to reveal Harry Potter. His face was muddy, though streaked from the rain, and his lips were chapped with cold.

"Hi."

Jacob blinked, and then returned the greeting. He didn't put Harry down, liking the feeling of his warm but wet body pressed tight against his chest. Harry had ended up gripping his shoulder, and his thumb dragged across the skin under the collar of his work shirt. Jacob blushed and made to set him down slowly.

"No!" Harry yelled, and then continued in a calmer tone of voice, "I mean, I twisted my ankle on the way over, which kind of destroys my ability to tromp at will through the woods. Do you mind carrying me on your back or supporting me under your arm or something? The crutch I was using tore open my armpit somehow, so I would have to crawl or hobble in agony the way back."

Jacob took this in, and then decided that someone up above was smiling down at him today. He got to carry his crush on a sort-of romantic walk through the forest! Possibly for hours! Oh, this was awesome. He was so glad he got out of bed that morning.

"It's cool; I'm pretty strong, so I can just carry you like this for most of the way. I don't want you to hang off of my back if you injured your arm; it could re-open it," he tugged Harry's hood down to cover his face better, zipped his coat up to his neck, and then trudged out into the rain with no concern about whether he got wet himself.

Who cared?

The walk was as long as Harry had warned on the phone, but it didn't feel that way to Jacob. The walk gave him an excuse to talk to Harry to his hearts content. He filled him in on American politics and local news, and explained to him what an American Indian was and why they had Reservations. Harry was saddened when he heard about the original treatment of the American Indians, and he squeezed Jacob's bicep in sympathy for the plight of his ancestors.

In turn, Harry told him about what going to a boarding school was like (boring), his family (evil), and what kind of job he'd had in England. It sounded like a cross between an accountant and a policeman to Jacob, though he kept that to himself. He had his turn to hold Harry tighter when Harry told him why he had to live with his aunt and uncle.

Jacob thought that losing his mom was bad, but losing both parents and having them murdered by a psychopath no less, made it even more horrible. Harry snuggled into his neck as the time went by, and Jacob covertly smelled him. He smelled good, though unusual.

He almost smelled like…electricity. It was hard to explain. Beneath the heady scent of lavender, pine needles, and shaving cream was a sort of…power charge. It was sharp and almost made his eyes water a few times. Despite the eye-watering side effects, Jacob liked it.

He liked lots of things about Harry. He liked the way he would shiver delicately every time a freezing blast of February wind passed through, he liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, revealing his age in the most pleasing way possible, and he definitely liked every smooth line of mature muscle that constituted his body. The policing part of his job back in England must have been very demanding if Harry had developed muscles like _these. _Sure, Jacob was bulkier and bigger, but Harry had a sophistication to him that made Jacob never want to get into a fight with him.

They finally arrived at the site of Harry's new home. Jacob looked around in wonder. No wonder Harry didn't mind how removed from society it was- its setting only enhanced the natural charm of the house's architecture. There were flowering trees and some kind of dark scratchy bush growing in profusion everywhere. The fragrance of their bark enlivened the winter air, refreshing his lungs.

He wondered if Harry would smell them too, or if his human nose wasn't strong enough.

"Wow, Harry, this is…wow. It's great."

Harry smiled at him, the curve of his lips felt against the sensitive skin of his neck. He tried not to focus too much on that until he was alone and had time to correctly savor it without the danger of committing a faux pas. Walking up the steps of the porch, he helped Harry get his keys out of his pocket.

Once inside, he immediately noticed that the part of the house to the left was inaccessible. The door was closed and a flimsy shower curtain had been strung up along the wall. It didn't quite reach the floor.

He set Harry down on the bottom step of the staircase. Harry smiled gratefully at him and reached down to massage his ankle.

"Thank you so much for carrying me! That was really nice of you."

He shrugged, "What can I say? I'm a nice guy."

One of those mysterious drafts that enjoy torturing us during the winter blew through the house, carrying with it the scent of something completely foreign to Jacob. It wasn't a plant, it wasn't a person, and it wasn't an object. What…?

He brushed it off as one of those old house smells. He gestured to the pathetic shower curtain, "What went wrong there?"

Harry laughed, "It looks pretty stupid, eh? Well, I found out the hard way that the towers were added later and made out of cheaper materials. They're structurally unsound, but they look gorgeous from the outside so I've decided to just board them up instead of tearing them down."

Jacob nodded, "That sounds reasonable. I agree about the towers- they looked really cool; they give the house that… you know…" he snapped his fingers, trying to remember the correct term.

"Gothic?" Harry supplied, at a loss.

"Yes! I'll bet it looks spooky at night."

Harry hadn't looked at it at night yet, so he couldn't say, but he nodded anyway. Jacob's enthusiasm was infectious.

"So, the house looks pretty good to me, as far as structure goes. What did you want me to help you with?"

Harry wordlessly asked to be picked up by holding out his arms like a child. Jacob obliged, lifting him and cradling him to his chest. Harry directed him through the house, showing him where the wood needed to be re-stained and probably sanded too and which walls he wanted painted or re-papered. Jacob took mental notes on all of this, mentally tallying costs and time. And then Harry announced that there was no electricity or plumbing, and that he would like to change that. Jacob considered this, and had to restrain himself from crowing with delight. This project could take months! Months of Harry's company and attention, all to himself in this beautiful house in the middle of the woods he'd loved since boyhood. The prospect made him giddy like a girl.

They made their way upstairs, and Harry asked him if he thought connecting two of the smallest bedrooms was a good idea or not. Jacob said it was a good one, since the beam separating them wasn't one of the primary roof supports.

In the attic, Jacob couldn't help but notice the bricks. Harry explained that the previous owner had already blocked off the basement and back tower as unsound before he even got there. Jacob accepted the explanation, and suggested that they poke around in the storage rooms and see if the furniture was to Harry's liking.

Jacob uncovered a plush sofa, probably custom-made because it didn't fit the era it had been made in, and seated Harry on it. He even pulled out an ottoman for his foot and wouldn't listen to Harry's protestations about being pampered. He just smiled charmingly and said, "You are my client, and a comfortable client is an amenable client."

Harry snorted and joked that he sounded like a hooker. Jacob would have laughed, except he very much wanted to do various pornographic things to Harry.

He distracted himself with displaying furniture.

They amused themselves this way, Harry saying yea or nay to various items Jacob displayed for his inspection until it was past noon. Harry suggested lunch, which Jacob couldn't say no to.

Carrying Harry downstairs, he let Harry down to support himself against the counters with his injured leg bent at the knee, as far from the floor as possible. Harry made them sandwiches from jam and peanut butter, apologizing all the while for the meal's lack of ceremony. Jacob waved him off, devouring his bag of potato chips.

"It's good, Harry. There's only so much you can do with no fridge."

Harry decided that was true, and hobbled his way to his favorite sofa. Jacob joined him.

There was barely enough room for both of them, so Jacob turned Harry so that his legs draped across his lap. He massaged Harry's wounded ankle in between devouring his eight sandwiches and chips, and Harry relaxed against the upholstery and sighed happily.

In addition to being attractive, Jacob was also incredibly good-humored. Harry found himself liking him more and more every moment they spent together. The previously-daunting task of making the house livable was looking more like some kind of dreamy experience. He blushed and hid behind his bag of crisps when Jacob's hand trailed 'accidentally' up his calf.

They were both sad when it started to get late and Jacob had to leave. He said he could find his way there and back alone, and promised to bring a cotton brace with him tomorrow for Harry's leg. Harry smiled his thanks for his consideration, and Jacob almost kissed him.

He controlled himself and refused Harry's offer to walk (or hobble) him to the door.

His hand was on the door knob when he caught a whiff of that strange scent again. It seemed to be coming from behind the sealed portion of the house. Glancing over his shoulder to see if Harry had followed him, he pressed his nose to the doorframe and inhaled.

Yes. It was definitely coming from behind the door, but it was most likely some kind of mold.

With a sigh, he let himself out quietly and walked for about half an hour in the woods before he deemed it safe to strip and transform. It would be faster to get home this way, and easier for him to navigate.

Happy thoughts of Harry kept him company all the way home.

~000~

End chapter 7

Sorry I took a few days off updating, but I'm kind of a competitive person when it comes to my school, and I want to do 2 years of University in less than one year and that means me getting busy. Eh heh. (I know I'm crazy, but I like goals…and achieving them)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Forging building permits and deeds and other such nonsense like manipulating computers was stupidly easy, and Harry wondered how many other magical people took advantage of Muggles like this every day. His I.D. was the hardest thing to make because of the complicated water marks and squiggly lines, but even that only took him an hour to create. The picture could have come out better, though. He looked like he was high on Pepper-Up Potion, and very scruffy.

He handled the legal aspect of getting his house renovated through Jacob's charming boss, Greg. Greg was stunned to learn that a house of that quality and size had managed to stay hidden for so long in the depths of the woods. Harry fielded his questions, using the cover story he'd devised with Sylvie the night before.

Everything went well, and his lies were swallowed smoothly. Life was just one big wide avenue of smooth, in fact. The Muggles were hoodwinked to the nines, Hermione sent him a Patronus to say that she was happy he'd found a place to settle down, and he managed to magic a cooling cupboard to hold his food. Oh, and his ankle healed practically over night.

What didn't go so smoothly was Sylvie waking him up at three in the morning before Jacob could arrive with his plumbing equipment and demanding attention because she was 'lonely'.

Harry rolled onto his side, hiding his face in the backrest of the sofa, "Why do you need company now? How did you survive all this time without company?"

She sat on his leg and pithily rebuked him for rejecting her instead. He endured this for five minutes, the length of time before his thigh started to fall asleep from the weight of her hips. He tried to kick her off ineffectually before rolling over and glaring at her. She smiled down at his bleary eyes and mussed hair and gave his ankle a squeeze.

"Ah, your attention at last" he scowled at this but she sobered quickly, her expression silencing his half-formed jab about her fat arse, "I meant to say something to you earlier, but I wasn't sure myself so I consulted my old notes about the indigenous peoples. I…well, the people weren't completely human. That young man you brought in here, Jacob? He smelled like one of those people.

He frowned, "What are you getting at?"

"Jacob is only half-human."

What in fuck's name was she talking about? His thoughts swirled crazily, lingering on the contained feral look that seemed to seep from Jacob's skin and his bizarre size and strength. There was also his intense body temperature to consider.

His thoughts of Jacob led him to remember the way he'd caught him looking at him, especially the way he had trouble breaking eye contact once it had been established. Jacob really was ridiculously good-looking. He would've killed to look like that when he was younger.

Sylvie jabbing her finger into his neck brought him back on task. He spluttered and finally shoved her off of him. She landed gracefully in a crouch and then rose to her full height, looking at him haughtily. He sneered, trying not to be impressed all over again by the fluid way she moved.

"Don't you want to know what Jacob's other half is?" she asked impatiently after several moments of silence.

Harry rolled his eyes, "_Fine_. What is he?"

Inside, his running commentary held its breath. He tried to look uninterested. It wouldn't do to let his crush slip through.

"He's half wolf, and he smelled like power too. He is either the bastard son of their Pack's Alpha, or he is the Alpha but is keeping this hidden somehow. He didn't have the stress of a leader."

"You could tell all of this by smelling him?"

He was impressed again.

She smirked and jerked her head back to the kitchen cupboards, which covered the bricked-up back tower, "I might have spied and eavesdropped a little. Just a little bit."

He groaned and rolled so that his back was to her again, "Privacy apparently means nothing to you. Have you been spying on me when I use that god-awful bathtub upstairs too?"

She was silent. A peek over his shoulder revealed her studiously looking at the wallpaper, which they both knew was entirely undeserving of that kind of intense concentration. His mouth fell open. He was almost 30 years old, had successfully carried on a marriage for years, and defeated a Dark Lord, but he still had to deal with this kind of juvenile bullshit.

It didn't help that he'd lingered in the bath until it was tepid bordering on chilly thinking about Jacob…and doing other things while thinking about Jacob that didn't involve washing his hair.

"Okay, Sylvie, we need to talk about boundaries."

The ensuing discussion was stressful enough to distract him from Jacob's apparently wolfishness, but the thoughts came back full force once the sun threatened to rise and Sylvie had to retreat to her lair for the day.

It would appear that nothing he ever did could be normal. He couldn't just fall for a nice normal handyman. Oh no. It had to be a half-wolf, excessively gorgeous, and much-younger-than-he-liked-to-remember handyman. He groaned and put his pillow over his face and fell back asleep. His conversation with Sylvie had worn him out.

~000~

The door was unlocked when Jacob arrived, so he assumed that Harry had left it that way for him and that he was somewhere inside. He knocked on the doorframe just to be safe, looking around the foyer. The scent of mold hit his nose stronger than before when he passed by the wall, and he raised his eyebrows. Hopefully it wasn't spreading.

Walking down the hall to the back parlor, he caught even fainter whiffs of the mold as he went. They were fading fast, like someone's personal scent after they'd passed through a room. He frowned. That was weird.

There was still no sign of Harry, and he felt a stab of worry. Rounding the corner of the back parlor, he sighed with relief to see him on the same sofa they saved while having lunch yesterday.

Harry was still asleep, curled slightly into himself and breathing through parted lips. He looked peaceful, and his naturally fair skin flowed pale like the moon in the budding morning light streaming through the uncovered windows. For Washington, and February at that, it was a glorious day. His mother used to call this kind of day "a pearl of a day".

A streak of fugitive fancy made Jacob creep closer, padding silently thanks to toeing off his muddy shoes at the front door. He looked around and found a dust bunny lurking guiltily in the corner. He grabbed it and moved to crouch over Harry.

Harry continued to sleep peacefully, unaware of the prank being played on him.

Jacob lowered the dust bunny over his face and then tickled his nose with it. Harry bolted upright, obviously broad awake. He looked around and then at Jacob. Jacob laughed and leapt back from Harry's swinging fist.

Harry couldn't help but admire Jacob despite his childish prank. He wore a flannel shirt, blue, loosely buttoned a mere three times down the front. It was his eyes that drew Harry's gaze. There was a look of half-mischief, half-desire in them that made his breath a little shorter than he was used to. He removed his eyes at last and snarled, "Very funny."

"I thought so," Jacob agreed, grinning and bobbing his head as though Harry wasn't giving him the dirtiest look he could manage without a pile of dirt to smear on his face.

"Good morning to you too," Harry grumbled, stumbling to his feet and stretching his spine for the day ahead. His coverlet fell into a soft heap on the hardwood floor next to the bottle of cognac Sylvie helped him half-empty earlier last evening. He remembered a moment later, mid-stretch that he liked to sleep in his pants, and squeaked.

Jacob was staring at him wide-eyed, and Harry hurriedly sat back down and pulled the coverlet over his lap. His pants weren't particularly modest. He hadn't bought new ones in a while (who did he have to impress? Ginny hadn't cared), and they were worn thin.

Essentially, he could've been wearing nothing and the view wouldn't have been much different.

This was extremely mortifying.

"I…um…tea?" Jacob averted his eyes now, moving to the safety of the kitchen. He started to make tea because he knew Harry liked to drink it, using the excuse to stay behind the kitchen 'island' until his trouser problem receded.

Harry reached down and dragged his pack to his side. He dug out his denims and slid them on modestly beneath the blanket. A shirt followed, with long sleeves just because. Feeling braver now that he was covered, he allowed himself to acknowledge that, despite the humiliating circumstances, he'd rather liked the way Jacob had fixated on him. The lurking half-desire in his eyes bloomed to completely control his gaze for those few seconds.

He smiled and shook his head. Oh, it was going to be an interesting next few months. Knowing that Jacob was half-wolf and obviously wanted him would keep him occupied for quite some time.

He joined Jacob in the kitchen just as he was pouring the water into the one mug and a chipped glass. He stood closer than strictly necessary, just because, and accepted his tea. He also saw fit to give Jacob a fetching smile from behind the rim of his mug before blowing softly on the steam. Jacob swallowed and then smiled weakly back.

"So, why don't we get started on the plumbing?"

Jacob leaped on the distraction and practically sprinted to his supply kit in the front hall.

Harry watched him work that day, handing him tools and helping move things around. They ate lunch together, and Harry kept the conversation light.

Jacob thought he was going to die the whole day from pent-up desire and frustration. He barely made it beyond the property lines before transforming as soon as it got too dark to work and he had to make his way home.

Arriving in his kitchen, he discovered Leah, who gave him an entirely too knowing look and said, "Should I leave so you can masturbate in peace?"

"Fuck you, Leah!" he groaned, slamming the door to his room.

~000~

End chapter 8

Short, yes, but it is still an update. I am tired and unmotivated…it is stupidly hot and humid –sadface-


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Harry waited until he was suitably smashed to ask Sylvie her opinion on whether or not Jacob was attracted to him. She giggled and replied,

"Oh, he wants you. He wants you so bad I can smell it clear across the house. I can smell it when I'm in the basement and he's in the attic."

Harry stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. He'd been expecting something along the lines of 'he finds you reasonably attractive but he isn't gay', not 'he wants you'. A slow grin spread across his face. Washington was turning out to be a very good idea indeed. Taking a swig of his ice water to take away some of the cognac-induced fog, he started to plot.

He had no intention of letting their mutual attraction remain passive.

~000~

Next morning, he made sure he was actually awake before Jacob arrived. He contemplated his clothes and decided to wear a pair of jeans. After a moment of indecision, he shucked off his pants and donned the trousers alone. Once dressed, he made himself a pot of tea and ate a piece of bread with some jam. He wished it was toast instead of plain bread, but he still had no electricity and no toaster. Some wizards could toast their bread with their wands, but the last time he'd tried that he'd set the kitchen of Grimmauld Place on fire.

Jacob showed up a few minutes late, apologized profusely, and stared at Harry's bare chest for far longer than necessary. Harry, feeling wicked, asked him if anything was the matter. Jacob stuttered, "You look…nice," before turning redder than his flannel shirt and heading upstairs hurriedly to work on the plumbing.

Harry felt extremely pleased for drawing an actual reaction that confirmed Sylvie's hypothesis. Later on he donned a sweater when he got chilly and couldn't hide his goose bumps. He checked on Jacob only a few times that day instead of staying close the whole time, letting him work on the finer details in peace now that the grunt work was out of the way. He didn't want his ability to flush the toilet compromised because Jacob was too distracted by him. Also, years of bizarre flirting and sexual tension with Ginny had taught him that letting someone miss you a little was a good way of keeping you in their thoughts.

Instead, he sorted out his meager food supplies from their heap on the parlor floor and into the pantry. He had a Hermione moment and made sure that all the labels were facing out and that they were arranged alphabetically. He tested the wood-burning stove, conjuring kindling after making sure that Jacob wasn't lurking anywhere nearby. It worked well, and he sprinted upstairs for the cast iron pots he'd found packed into a wooden grates. He was forced to lug it downstairs the Muggle way instead of levitating it, but he cast lightening charms.

Standing in front of a hot stove stirring the beginnings of bean soup, he was reminded of his days at the Dursleys all those years ago.

He smiled and wondered how Jacob was faring.

~000~

Upstairs, Jacob was in an agony of desire. His sweaty palms didn't hinder his work, thank god, but he was getting to a point where they might.

He just didn't understand this! These…feelings and thoughts and longings were nothing like what he'd felt for Bella. With her, his intentions had been uncharacteristically pure for a teenaged boy, and he knew that, but there was something about her that made him want to put her on a pedestal. Harry was a completely different animal. He made him sweat and blush and wonder what he looked like naked and if he thought about him the same way.

He knew he hadn't imprinted, because his Pack members had described it enough times that he almost felt as though he'd gone through the process as well. So, if he hadn't imprinted, why were his feelings so intense?

With a groan of effort, he tightened a bolt and sat back on his heels to admire his handiwork. His mind was a rat's nest of confusion and his libido was going on a rampage that would make Ivan the Terrible jealous, but his plumbing skills were definitely good. Closing up his toolbox, he headed downstairs and out the back to turn the water on and test it.

He caught a whiff of something that smelled delicious and sighed happily. Sandwiches were fine, but a hot lunch in the winter was one of his favorite things.

The water worked fine, and he let out a whoop. He tested all the shower heads, tub faucets, and sinks. The one attached to the kitchen sink he saved for last. Harry had his back to him when he crept inside, doing something with beans on the counter. He stealthily snuck up behind him and then, when Harry set down his knife, pounced.

Harry let out a squawk and flailed, his hand smacking repeatedly against Jacob's face. Jacob laughed so hard his stomach hurt, and Harry smacked him again for good measure when he realized he'd been pranked.

"You little shit!"

He just cackled from his place on the floor, and Harry stalked away. He returned with a piece of crusty bread with some butter on it.

"Here, this should hold you over. The soup won't be done for another half an hour."

He stuffed the bread in his mouth in two bites, ignoring Harry's moue of disgust. Swallowing, he reached behind Harry and stole a celery stick.

Harry shook his head but made no move to retrieve the vegetable. Jacob ate this slower and absently tested the faucet. It worked, and Harry grinned at him and complimented him on how fast he worked. Jacob soaked up the praise and just generally basked in Harry's presence. Harry was both soothing and stressful to be around.

Being with him quieted his thoughts and made him feel the same way he did when he heard a really good song on the radio. He also made his heart beat faster and hot flashes shoot up and down his back. He wondered how many days of his life he would give to possess this man.

Harry jerked his head toward the bread and told him to help himself. He did so, and then asked if there was anything he could do to help. Harry told him to go upstairs and see if he could find any dishes in the attic.

Left alone, Harry sighed and wondered what the hell he was doing. He'd subtly flirted with Jacob, insinuating himself into his personal space and touching his lightly on the arm more than once. He couldn't help but feel like a trollop. He was never very outspoken or obvious in the few relationships he'd had, and Ginny was a prude. This was as new to him and it was to Jacob.

He was just wondering if maybe he was moving too fast when Jacob came sprinting down the stairs. He stopped a few inches from Harry, panting, and then, without warning, he bent down and kissed him.

~000~

End chapter 9

This is a half-update, but whatever. I'm on booze and this kind of douchebaggery becomes acceptable at times like this.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Harry was stunned, and held stone-still for a half-second that felt like forever, and then he wrapped his arms around his back and pulled him still closer. His lips followed his arm's example and Jacob made a happy sound.

Their kiss abruptly when Jacob fainted.

~000~

If you asked Jacob what made him lose consciousness, he wouldn't know how to describe. One moment he was going upstairs, the next a tugging somewhere between his heart and his belly dragged him over to finally act on what he'd been wanting to do for days. Then there was bliss, soft lips, and warm breaths until everything melted together in a big fondue pot of shimmery golden light.

His nerves were still tingling like that one time he broke his arm and was given enough happy pills to knock over a horse when he came to. Harry was leaning over him with a cold cloth pressed to his forehead. There was another one draped around his neck. Becoming more aware of his surroundings, he found that he was on the sofa Harry seemed to favor.

"Are you feeling a bit better now?" Harry murmured, keeping his voice down.

Jacob was grateful for this, because his ears felt like a midget with a long arm had reached inside his canals and bludgeoned them black and blue. He nodded weakly, and Harry smiled with relief in his eyes. Something began to emerge, half-formed from the back of his thoughts. Gold light, his manic attraction to Harry, passing out…could it be that he'd just…? If he had, oh, if he had, would Harry say yes? Would he accept him? Could they build the life together that he'd wanted with Bella but was denied?

The sound of Harry's voice drew him out of his swirling thoughts.

"Fuck that scared me! You just went limp all of a sudden. You should have said you were feeling a bit funny from all that heavy lifting," Harry reproached, adjusting the cloth on his forehead. Almost shyly, he added, "You don't have to act all tough in front of me, you know. I already know you're a big capable man."

He snorted when Harry gave him a huge cheesy smile and reached up to wrap his hand around Harry's wrist. He made him lower the cloth so he could see him clearly. Harry let him, straightening his posture to show he was paying attention to whatever he wanted to say. Jacob appreciated this, but he sighed and wondered how he should say what he thought had happened. Harry had a right to know, but what if he was wrong?

Before he could think too hard about it, he opened his mouth and blurted, "Do you love me?"

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again, looked away, looked back, and said, "No, not yet. I like you though, a _lot. _You're a good person, and you have a good heart and you're definitely nice to look at. But no, I don't think it's possible for me to love you yet. I just don't know you well enough."

He hadn't been expecting him to be honest. The limited experience he'd had with teenaged girls had taught him that they will lie, lie, lie to avoid hurting you to your face. However, despite the sting of Harry's semi-rejection, he liked that he was honest. It was one of the best things about Harry as far as he knew. There was something good and noble, like a comic superhero or one of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table about Harry. Sometimes Harry sounded like something out of a storybook, too good to be true.

Hands crept anxiously into his and gave them a squeeze, "Please don't be sad. I think I just need some time, since it's quite likely that I will love you eventually."

Grinning at each other despite Harry's solemn words, Jacob craned up his neck and Harry bent down to peck him chastely on the lips.

Part of him snarled and wept inside, but kept his outer face smooth and empty of expression other than a passive smile. He could wait. He was good at waiting. He'd spent most of his life waiting for just a tiny chance at love, and he could wait a little longer. His dad said he was as patient as old sin, and he had to agree with him.

Harry cleared his throat, "So, drama and you fainting aside, do you need to lie down some more? If so, that's fine with me. I'll just be outside sorting the garden shed. When it gets too dark, I'll come back inside and work on the attic. There is one of those cheap novels from the grocery store on the table behind you and a pitcher of water. Help yourself to both as you need them."

And with that, Harry got off the couch and left Jacob to recover his wits. He picked up the book and tried to read, but the detective novel couldn't hold his interest. He just stared at the page, thinking about Harry and how he could win his life and love the fastest without scaring him too much. Being a giant wolf was certainly a disadvantage when imprinting outside the Pack.

That is, if he had imprinted at all. He still wasn't positive yet.

~000~

That night, he got back much later than usual. Harry wouldn't let him leave until he'd had enough food to actually fill the bottomless pit of hunger he'd become accustomed to, and even given him a few shots of brandy to steady him. Any steadying affects the brandy might have had were completely ruined when Harry gave him a good-bye kiss that was as far from chaste as you could get without hurting yourself.

Leah greeted him with a mouthful of toast and peanut butter, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his dad's slippers. Clutched in her other hand was a bowl of cereal. She gurgled at him.

He scowled and snatched it out of her hands, taking several large bites just to spite her for eating all his food. Well, technically it was half his dad's food, but the point stood.

"Why are you always here?" he hissed, not wanting to wake Billy.

She shrugged, stuffing entire piece of bread into her mouth at once. He grimaced in disgust and she gave him one of those really gross smiles full of too-much chewed food.

"Ugh."

He led the way to his room, still disgusted with her defiance of his privacy requests and personal bubble rules.

Before he could so much as toe off his shoes, she was sprawled on his bed and munching on the cereal, making little contented sounds like a pleased kitten. He glared at her and stripped down to his underwear. She smirked at him when he modestly turned his back to her. Even though he couldn't see it, he could just tell when she was mocking him.

Ablutions finished after a swift dash to the bathroom for a piss and a brush of his teeth, he kicked her off his bed and made himself comfortable. Rolling onto his side, he repeated, "Why are you here?"

She shrugged, still splayed obscenely on his floor, "Seth has a date tonight. I'm not stupid; I know he won't be back until, like, three. And I knew you would probably work late, so I came over to cook for your dad. I did an extra patrol shift, and then I got bored. Because the house gets cold without Seth there, I came here."

He groaned, "Why? Why couldn't you just go torture Paul or something? He actually deserves to be nagged and robbed."

"Because you're more interesting; did you do anything especially humiliating or awkward today?"

"Nah…" he paused. Why couldn't he talk to Leah about his possible imprint? She would be here for possibly the whole night, bothering him, so why not? "Actually, something did happen."

She sat up and pointed her finger between his eyes, "I knew it! I fucking knew it!" she crowed, "Something happened like you _kissed him, didn't you!"_

His mouth fell open. He spluttered, trying to form words, "How the _fuck _did you guess that?"

Cackling, she crawled into bed beside him and pulled him into an affectionate headlock, "It was all over your face when you came in, sucker. That and you smelled like someone else pretty strongly, which usually means making out. Thank god you don't smell like sex, or I might have had to vomit all over your nice hardwood floors."

He slapped her on the thigh and squirmed away, "It's none of your damn business whether I have sex with him or not!"

"Oh-ho, so there is sexual tension instead of innocent kiddy-land flirting!" she announced triumphantly, grabbing his pillow and hugging it. She became more serious as their giddy goofiness subsided, "Are you sure you want to be messing around with someone you haven't imprinted on? I mean, what happened with Sam and I was a surprise to both of us, but you know better. You have a perfect match out there somewhere; is this human worth becoming involved with?"

"Well, that's the thing…I think he's the one."

Her eyes went wider than he'd ever seen them, and she slowly stiffened. He was suddenly hyper-aware that they were the only older wolves that hadn't imprinted on anyone yet. They had a sort of club, an understanding just between the two of them that the rest of the original pack couldn't share. And now he'd shattered that.

Wordlessly, she uncrossed her legs, slid off the bed, and padded out the door. He bent forward and put his face in his hands. Why didn't he think that one through? Getting up, he put on a robe and slippers and followed her.

He found her standing outside, back pressed to the outer wall of the Black residence, sobbing her heart out. He'd never seen her emotional like this. He'd seen her angry, afraid, and in love. But never like this.

She knew he was there, and she whispered the answer to his question, "I'm going to end up alone, Jake. Everyone else is going to start aging and having babies and then getting old and finally dying. But not me. Oh no, never me. I will still be there, alone and colder than this snow, left youthful and lonely until the sun explodes in the sky."

His heart choked him, and he wrapped his arms around her, dragging her down to the floor so that he could encircle her with all four of his limbs. If they hadn't been pack members, it might have been inappropriate, but for them it was just right. He held her close and let her cry.

He didn't believe that she would die alone, but he was sorry that she would have to wait alone.

~000~

End chapter 10

Sorry for the long pause in between updates. I went to NYC and had other shit happen.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: For those of you who haven't read Wolf in the Wild yet, I suggest you do so. I know the pairing is rare, but it's actually kind of cute and deserves more fans.

CHAPTER 11

Jake was worried that things were going to be awkward the next morning after the events of yesterday, but he stopped worrying when Harry greeted him with a basket of freshly-baked muffins (cranberry, his favorite) and a kiss on the chin. The height difference made reaching his lips a little difficult for Harry, even though he was by no means short.

He complained about this while fussing around with his extremely old-fashioned wood burning stove, and demanded to know how tall Jacob was exactly.

"I'm six feet, eleven inches. Just an inch short of seven feet; I've still got my fingers crossed that I'll sprout another few inches."

Harry asked him to translate that into meters, listened to his answer with surprise, and then looked him over incredulously. He muttered something about the water around here, adding eggs to his latest batch of muffins. Jacob watched for a while, eating his second breakfast. It was kind of cute that Harry already anticipated his massive appetite, and he was adorable when he was cooking.

Once he finished, he had to go back up and work on the leaks in the roof. It was a lonely job, and a wet one, but he comforted himself with thoughts of his lunch break and wondering if Harry would come to 'check his progress'.

A rat startled him, which he strangled and tossed down the roof. It bit his finger before he could kill it, and he scowled at the nest it had made in between two beams. Removing the board the nest was built on, he was greeted by the ex-rat's entire extended family. Needless to say, he was bitten several more times before he could kill them all. One escaped, so he made a mental note to set some traps later.

Harry chose now to come visit him, and was just in time to see his cuts healing at a pace that could not be explained away. Jacob flapped his mouth like a fish for several tense seconds, not knowing what to do. Harry didn't look concerned. He handed him a piece of fruit and asked how things were coming along.

"They're um…they're good," why wasn't he asking him about the bites? Maybe he didn't see. Harry wore glasses, after all. He told him about the rats, and Harry said he would give him some money to buy the traps and thanked him for telling him about that.

Shop talk over, they looked at each other somewhat shyly. Jacob burst out, "You know, you remind me of that Johnny Cash song…you know the one, long and lean and his eyes were green?"

Harry tilted his head and shook his head, "I've never heard it, actually."

"Oh."

He stepped closer, and Jacob swallowed. His vision was starting to go all golden around the edges again, and Harry practically glowed. Not that he needed any enhancements, being plenty good looking already. Harry laid his hand on his chest, fingers splayed, and leaned in. his eyelashes fluttered, and Jacob closed his eyes, expecting a kiss. Instead, Harry whispered against his lips, "Your ear is bleeding."

And then he left. Jacob had to think about his dad naked before the effects of Harry's proximity would go away. When he went back to mending the roof, his hands were still shaky. If he was going to react like this every time Harry came within three feet of him for more than a second or so, something needed to be done!

~000~

In the kitchen, Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing at the look on Jacob's face. It was mean of him to tease, but it had been years since he had a free license to flirt and he intended to enjoy it. Since Jake was upstairs, he felt it safe to conjure a coffee machine that could run without electricity. He began to make himself a pot of coffee, still trying to get used to the damned drink of the devil.

While he waited, he washed the dishes left over from his baking spree. If Jacob was going to become a regular fixture of his life, he knew he would need to stock up on lots of filling food. That boy had an empty leg at all times, it would seem.

The coffee machine stopped gurgling, signifying that it was done. He glanced out the window as he retrieved a mug, curling his lip at how dark and overcast it was. It was winter, yes, but was a flash of blue sky too much to ask for every few weeks?

He took the pot and began to pour some of the evil black liquid into his mug. Despite the gloom outside, the battery-powered lamps and gentle glow from the stove gave the old kitchen a cozy look. He thought of Mrs. Weasley, and felt a moment of homesickness.

"Hello Harry," Sylvie's smooth voice greeted from directly behind him. "What are you making for lunch? It smells delectable."

He let out a scream and dropped the coffee pot on his foot.

"What kind of fuckery is this?" he shouted, outraged and clutching his burned and bruised foot, "And for god's sakes get me some ice for this!"

Jacob must have heard the commotion, because there was a sound like a stampede of buffalo and then he burst into the kitchen. He found Harry sitting on the counter and a strange woman wrapping an ice pack around his foot. They both looked up when he entered, and stared. He stared back.

There was an awkward silence, and then Harry coughed and indicated the woman with his uninjured foot.

"Jacob, this is my landlady Sylvie."

She was staringly white and thinner than any human had a right to be. Despite the frailty of her skeleton, there was an air of restrained and civilized menace about her. The faint scent of preserved rot that he'd found traces of by the boarded-up sections of the house was emanating from her.

"Hello, Jacob."

Her tone was civilized, but all he could do was stare at her red eyes and the deathly pallor of her skin. Her lips were blue. She didn't smell like them (he would have known immediately if she had), but those eyes…! They could only mean one thing, surely.

"What…?" 

Harry sighed and tapped Sylvie's shoulder. She rose from her position on the floor and gestured to the sofa through the open door. Harry went first, then Sylvie. Jacob waited several minutes before taking a deep breath and followed them. He could only hope that explanations would be forthcoming. He was very confused right now, and he didn't enjoy being confused or uncertain.

Sylvie stood by the window, protected from the weak beams of the filtered winter light by the thick dusty drapes Harry found in the attic. They helped keep the drafts at bay when drawn. He sat next to Harry, and Harry laid his hand on his knee.

"So, I think its time we had a little honesty session."

Harry was trying to sound cheerful, but there was a strained edge to his voice that gave away how nervous he was.

"Now, don't be angry, but I haven't been completely truthful with you on several accounts. First, I don't technically own this house. Sylvie does, and she was kind enough to let me stay after she discovered me squatting here."

Jacob nodded. He could accept that.

"I also know that you aren't completely human. I'm not normal either, and Sylvie is a…"

"I'm a Vampire," Sylvie cut in, as gently as a knife to the foot.

Jacob attempted to accept this, but couldn't. "You can't possibly be a Vampire. You don't smell like one. The only Vampire thing about you is your eyes."

She sighed, "I take it you have had run-ins with the smellier, trollish version of my species?"

He blinked, "What?"

"I am referring to those creatures that survive on blood, are smelly to those who can detect the subtlety of their scent, rock-like of skin, and glittery in the sunlight. I am a rather different sort of Vampire, I am afraid to say."

"I didn't know there was more than one kind of bloodsucker," he snarled, more out of habit than animosity. Vampire or not, this woman didn't arouse his usual urge of destructive rage that was typical of the Cullens and the others of their kind he'd encountered.

She smirked, "There's more than one kind of human, isn't there? Last I checked, you come in every size, shape, and color."

Her eyes flicked between Harry and Jacob, silently drawing attention to Jacob's amber skin, Harry's moon tan, and the differences in their physiques. Harry smirked back, and laid his hand on Jake's thigh. He gave it a squeeze, getting Jacob to look at him instead of her. Harry didn't need to say what he wanted. Jacob sighed and slumped into the sofa.

"Fine, you're a Vampire, and you two seem to get along despite the fact that she could _eat you, _so whatever. What else should I know?"

Harry coughed delicately, "That's rather a matter of what I know that you didn't. You're a sort of wolf, yes?"

Jacob almost fell off the couch.

"How did you know that?"

Sylvie suddenly bent and snapped out a hand. When she rose, she clutched the rat that escaped earlier. She stuffed it into her mouth whole and swallowed like a jungle snake. Harry didn't bat an eye, used to her odd eating habits by now. Jacob was still too freaked out by Harry knowing about his shape shifting to care.

"How do you know?" he repeated, grabbing hold of Harry's shoulder and giving it a shake. Harry shrugged and responded,

"I already suspected, but Sylvie confirmed your scent. You're not a Werewolf though. What are you?"

His mouth was dry, and he didn't know what to say. They didn't really have a name for what they were other than wolves. "I guess I'm a…shape shifter? I turn into a wolf. Supposedly my tribe is descended from them, though I don't see how that's possible. The Elders get kind of loopy when they tell the old stories," he realized he was rambling and tried to get to the point, "It runs in my tribe's blood. I'm the alpha of a small pack, to be specific. We protect our Reservation from the other kind of Vampire," he gave a small nod to Sylvie, who actually smiled, "and anything else that needs a swift put-down."

"Impressive," Harry complimented, and got up to go into the kitchen. He returned with a cup of tea, which he knew Jacob didn't care for.

"Anything else?"

Sylvie shook her head, and Harry bit his lip. Jacob raised his eyebrows, and gently took Harry's tea out of his hands. Harry had beautiful pale pink-knuckled hands, with long thin fingers. Looking at them closely, he perceived a tremble. Setting the tea on the floor, he covered them with his own. Harry still wouldn't look at him.

"Harry, what else?"

"I don't think…I think it's too soon to talk about that," Harry whispered. Obviously, whatever this secret was, it was close to Harry's heart for him to get emotional over it. Jacob knew that Harry wasn't the emotional type, so this was worrying.

"Are you in trouble or something? Is that why you were squatting?"

"No, no nothing like that. It's just something about me that is kind of hard to explain, and a bit personal right now. I don't know if I want it to be a major part of my life anymore either, so there might not even be a point in telling you."

Jacob had had plenty of secrets and information dumped on him already, so he didn't fight Harry on this. Harry would tell him later if he needed to know. And then maybe Jacob could tell him about the imprint. Instead, he pulled Harry against his chest and ran his fingers through his hair, just like his mother used to do. Harry let out a sound that sounded like a gasp-sigh, and pressed his nose to his chest.

Sylvie quietly left, her business done. She wasn't going to let those boys dance around each other if she could do anything about it.

~000~

End chapter 11

Been a while, yeah, but I warned you guys that I have commitment issues with this story.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Guess who finally went to see Scott Pilgrim vs. The World? ME. And you know what? It was fucking awesome. I officially adore Wallace more than is polite or even understandable.

CHAPTER 12

Leaving the makings of chili to marinate on the stove, Harry helped Jacob with the roof. They chatted about how Harry had met Sylvie, about Jacob's Pack, and even compared childhoods. Harry's home life growing up upset Jacob, despite Harry's protests regarding Jacob's own loss of mother. It didn't sound like fun to work as a slave for people who hated you, but Harry claimed it was the sole reason he could cook anything properly, so Jacob supposed that there had been some upsides to it.

Still, he wasn't happy about it. He wondered why Harry wouldn't tell him about school after he turned eleven or where he used to work or any past relationships, but he supposed that he could wait. It would be nice to know where Harry's seemingly never-ending supply of hard cash came from as well, even though he was kind of scared to ask. Sure, Harry could be vulnerable and acted like a normal guy most of the time, but sometimes…sometimes Harry would look at him a certain way or flex his neck and he became suddenly dangerous. It was ridiculous for him to suspect Harry of anything criminal. His late-night musings were forcing him to over-analyze everything and he was positive he was just over-reacting.

They stopped at four so that Jacob could get home in time to make dinner for Billy for once. Harry wordlessly handed him three canning jars filled with the chili to take home with him. He tried to refuse, not wanting to seem parasitic of Harry's generosity. Harry insisted, so he surrendered and accepted the gift.

Standing by the front door, they said goodbye and then both waited for the other to make some kind of overture. Harry smiled half-shyly up at him and Jacob bent his neck to take the initiative this time. Their lips fit so nicely together it made him feel light-headed and press his free hand to Harry's lower back, pushing them closer. His scent was heady and he detected the undertones of desire lurking through his regular smoke-soap like veins of gold in rock.

Harry's lips against his weren't too wet or too chapped, too big or too small. He ran the pad of his broad thumb across the lower one when he pulled away, and Harry snickered.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing," Harry smirked, bumping his forehead against his shoulder, "You should go."

"Yeah…"

Neither of them made any move to step away from the other. They remained in the doorway, Harry shivering in the February wind on one side and basking in the warmth of Jacob on the other. Jacob leaned down again and pressed his mouth to the profile of his nose. Harry sighed and mumbled something, his fingers catching the front of Jacob's shirt and holding fast.

There was a thin layer of slush in the entrance hall by the time Jacob actually left Harry's arms and ventured home, laden down with tools and treats. His hand rose to his mouth, and he found his lips to be swollen from more than cold.

~000~

The sun set an hour later and darkness descended, making it safe for the sun conscious person to step out of hiding.

"You can come out now," Harry called out to Sylvie from the kitchen, measuring out a glass of chardonnay. He added a twist of blood from the meat he'd used in the chili earlier and washed his hands carefully in the sink, which worked now.

He spared a moment to be sad about how much progress Jacob was making so fast on the house. The faster he worked, the sooner he'd be done. And once he was done, Harry wouldn't have an excuse to see him everyday. He knew Jacob needed the money and that he had to be home to take care of his dad and the auto shop. It was selfish to want Jacob to give up his duties just so that Harry could see his handsome face, but he couldn't help it.

He sighed, the sound worthy of a romance novel maiden and stared out the window at the grey night.

Sylvie silently took her blood-infused drink and sniffed it appreciatively, keeping one eye on Harry's slumped shoulders. She rolled her eyes. Jacob had only been gone an hour and Harry was already lovesick without him.

Sipping her drink, she sidled over to him and laid her cold hand against the back of his neck. He yelped and jerked out of reach. Cackling at his distress and cursing, she handed him the drink she'd poured for him. He accepted it, grumbling, and took a gulp.

She slapped his arm, "You don't gulp wine, you uncultured brat! You sip it, for god's sake."

"There's no one to impress right now, so I don't see why not," he retorted, slurping half of his drink down just to see her face.

They migrated to the front parlor, the one with the carpet, and sprawled out on their backs without any pretense of sitting up straight like respectable people. Harry remembered to bring the bottle of chardonnay, and they emptied it slowly between them for once. They talked about politics, Harry filling Sylvie in one the more recent developments and laughing at her jokes about how modern politics compare to even politics 200 years ago.

When that topic, and the bottle, was exhausted, Sylvie reached over and ran her hand through Harry's tangled hair. He closed his eyes and let her play with it without protest.

After a bit, she whispered, "I hope you're not angry with me for pushing things along earlier today."

He frowned, rolled over to face her, and then replied, "I'm not angry, per se, but I don't like people interfering with my life. I had plenty of that growing up and I think my patience for that is pretty much gone now."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

Outside, it began to snow. It turned to slush when it landed; mixing with the rain from earlier, but it was beautiful all the same. A hush settled over the world, and everything was breathlessly still. Starlight glittered where the snow managed to remain unmelted, and made the trees look candied. Inside, safe and warm, Sylvie continued to stroke and toy with his hair. She watched as he slowly drifted closer to sleep, reflecting that wine and warmth are the easiest ways to lull someone into a nap whether you intend to or not.

When he looked ready to glide off into la-la land for real, she softly asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," his lips barely moved. She smiled and curled her finger through a wavy piece of his hair growing at the base of his neck affectionately. He looked child-like and peaceful when he was sleepy, and she felt a swell of fondness for him. Of all the people to stumble across her and become a tenant of her fortress, he was by far one of the nicest options that came to mind.

"Why were you so upset earlier, towards the end of our discussion?"

He didn't protest the question. Eyes still closed, he sleepily replied, "It finally hit me."

"What hit you?"

"That…that I might never go back to my old friends and old life; that things could be well and truly over between me and Ginny's family. It's all over, wrecked. I guess I didn't really think about it like that before, so it blindsided me," He trailed off, and then added so quietly she could barely hear him, "I almost cried in front of Jacob."

The lamp light flickered on the beginnings of tears as they escaped from the fanned half-moons of Harry's lashes. She swallowed and wrapped her arm around him, pulling him close so that his head settled into the curve of her neck. He was silent, but his arm came up to wrap around her just as tight and he began to shake.

When he fell asleep, she pulled away and found a blanket and pillow for him from the back of the house. Making sure that the fire was well-fed the night long, she went over some notes she'd been compiling for her latest project (a memoir about everything she knew about Harry by now, tentatively titled 'Drunken Ramblings of a Boy Hero'). She soothed him when he began to have a nightmare, and wondered if this was what motherhood would have felt like.

She decided she would have been bad at it. She hated the smell of vomit and excrement, and the sound of disappointment.

~000~

Jacob suffered through a dinner of eagle-eyed stares from his dad and tricky interrogation. His dad knew there was something going on, and he meant to find out. Jacob barely made it out of there alive to the safety of the kitchen, where he scrubbed the dishes in record time and escaped out to the shop.

Left alone in front of the TV, Billy Black stroked his chin and made bets with himself about how long it would take his son to crack and tell him who his new love interest was. He only hoped it wasn't some new teenaged idiot. He'd had enough of those, and was ready for his son to move onto more mature women. Or men, if what Leah had been implying for the past month had any truth to it.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, though he'd been suspecting something like this to happen after his daughters turned out so well. It was too much to hope for all three children to do the responsible, socially-acceptable thing.

He sighed and turned on the news.

~000~

End chapter 12

I dub this chapter long enough. Barely.

.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

A week and then a month of careful touches and brash kisses, hard labor in more than one way and home-cooked meals, passed quickly. Jacob barely saw Leah between juggling jobs and patrol schedules and mediating the stupid fights his pack got into. He was worried about her, but he knew better than to seek her out before it was time. When she wanted to talk, she would find him.

In the mean time, he'd finally grown that final inch of height that officially made him seven feet tall. Harry just shook his head in mock-disgust at him when he told him the news and made some remark about another inch of stomach to fill.

Spring was definitely on the way towards the end of April, and though this didn't change much in regards to the rain, the trees that lost their leaves were regaining them. A layer of green growing things seemed to sprout overnight, and suddenly the air smelled deliciously of new life. He tried to explain the scent to Harry, but all he could smell was a fraction of what he described.

They sat at the kitchen table on Friday afternoon, during the last week of April; Jacob slouched low enough that he could rest his neck on the back of his chair and Harry sitting cross-legged in his. The sun was out today, and weak strands of it filtered through the French doors and formed squares of light on the wood floor.

There was nothing more for Jacob to do around the house. It was the last day he would spend sanding stairs, moving heavy old-fashioned furniture, and getting bitten by vermin. It was the last day he could enjoy breakfast, brunch, elevens, lunch, snacks, tea, and supper with Harry. And it was the last day he would spend distracted as hell by every little thing Harry did. The way he smelled (heavy and light and fragrant and fresh all at once), the way his hair looked in the sun (glorious), the little line that formed between his eyebrows when he was concentrating really hard (stupidly arousing)…the way he licked his lips before and after kissing of any kind, no matter how long or short.

He sighed miserably.

He slouched lower and lower in his chair, trying to get the sun to land on more of his face. Eventually he slouched too far, over-balanced, and tumbled out of his chair and onto the floor in a heap. Harry laughed loudly, breaking the comfortable silence they'd been basking in.

Once Harry stopped laughing and Jacob had made himself comfortable on the easy chair Harry decided to put in a corner of the kitchen (so he'd have somewhere comfortable to sit when peeling potatoes), the silence returned until Harry smirked at him.

"Crazy idiot", Harry said calmly, eyes aglitter and betraying his feigned nonchalance.

He gave him the finger.

After a bit, Jacob voiced something he'd been wondering about for a while. Not wanting his only connection to Harry to be having repaired his house and his imprint, he'd spent a lot of time thinking about how to tie Harry closer to him. He decided that gradually introducing him to his friends and family would be the best and most subtle approach. He didn't want to look as clingy as he felt.

"Do you want to meet Leah for coffee on Sunday?"

Harry looked up from his tea (which was awful) and raised his eyebrows, "The one that's always stealing your food and generally being a nuisance to you?"

He grinned, "Yeah, that's the one."

"Okay, sounds good," Harry shrugged and smiled, "I'd like to meet your friends. You know, see if they're as bad as you say."

Harry got a smack upside the head for that and a snappy, "And I'm sure they'll want to see if you're as old as I've said."

"Hey! What's the deal? I'm not even 30 yet!"

Jacob ran for the second floor before Harry could get out of his chair and come after him with a ladle like that one time. He heard him thunder up the now-stable stairs behind him a moment later, laughing and yelling threats about what happened to young men who made fun of their elders.

Harry almost caught him on the second floor by the bathroom, but he got away just in time by propelling himself through the air and onto the attic steps in a graceful move that left Harry breathless at the sight. It was easy to forget what Jacob was, and little moments like these brought the realization that he was more than human back to the forefront of Harry's awareness. He sighed and followed him into the attic.

It was mostly empty now that the house was furnished and he'd sold most of the remaining frippery. The pieces that he hadn't been able to foist upon an antique-hungry buyer were stored in the closer shed beyond the garden. All that remained were some locked trunks filled with Sylvie's excess research things against the wall and a pair of sofas. Since Harry hated wearing shoes inside _and _splinters, carpets were laid down on the shaggy boards that made up the floor.

Jacob was waiting by the far end of the attic, where the ceiling was the highest, looking out the peaked window at the awakening garden. Harry gave up any pretense of annoyance and padded over to stand beside him. The sun was brighter up here without the shade of the trees, and it illuminated Jacob's features with its soft rays.

He bumped his head against his shoulder, and Jacob wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

"I like you," Harry whispered, still shy about admitting his feelings. It was strange to be dating someone new after the fiasco with Ginny, and it was especially strange that he should take up with someone so…so different from anything he could have expected. If you'd asked him a few months ago what kind of person he saw himself dating, he would've said something along the lines of a quiet bookish girl with a sense of humor.

Still, he was happy that Jacob was out of his comfort zone and his established routine. It was good for him, good for both of them. After just a few conversations with Jacob, it had become painfully obvious that his peers could hold only minimal intellectual interest for him. He wondered what kind of person Jacob would have dated if they hadn't met, and couldn't think of a single suitable sort.

"Are you okay?" Jacob murmured after an indefinable amount of time had rolled past.

"Hmm," Harry responded, turning his head and pressing his lips warmly against his bare bicep. He smiled to himself when he felt Jacob's body heat spike. It was hilarious that he could now pinpoint exactly when Jacob became aroused. A peek at his face showed that he was blushing beneath his tan skin.

A flash of the boldness that had gotten him into trouble so frequently back at school gave him the guts to trail his fingers down his bicep, down his forearm, across his fingers, and then onto his thigh. He squeezed it and heard Jacob sharply inhale.

Despite being two red-blooded healthy men, their physical relationship had remained surprisingly chaste for the past weeks. They kissed and a certain amount of groping and gasping occurred, but no outright seductive measures had been taken.

Harry fanned out his fingers, his pinky brushing against the front of his trousers. Nuzzling his shoulder, he flexed his fingers like a cat and felt Jacob shudder.

And then he withdrew his hand and sauntered off to make himself comfortable on the larger of the sofas, drawing his legs up to his chest and hugging them as was his wont. He could feel Jacob's outrage from across the room, and almost giggled. As expected, Jacob didn't accept this passively and soon stalked over to the sofa. Harry looked up at him with wide innocent eyes, doing a passable mimic of Bambi in the woods. Jacob curled his lip, reached out, and jerked his legs down. Harry's feet hit the floor with a 'thump'. He just smiled and didn't interfere when Jacob knelt between them. He spread Harry's legs wide enough for him to settle between them and made eye contact. Harry didn't say anything, but the challenge in his eyes was enough.

He cupped his face and brought their mouths together. The kiss started out gentle and almost polite, but soon degenerated into a sloppy mashing of mouths and pushing of tongues. He dropped his hands from Harry's neck to his shoulders and then to his narrow hips, tugging him to the edge of the sofa until they bumped. Harry's eyes flew open, surprised, but then slid shut again as Jacob began running his hands up and down his back beneath his shirt, sometimes dragging his nails against the ridges of his spine and pressing his thumbs into the grooves beneath his shoulder blades.

While he was normally able to keep his head (sort of) when messing around with Harry, some part of him knew that things were different this time. Every little contact between their bare skins ignited his insides and made him feel like a madman. Tigerish lust soared through his veins when Harry let out a quiet moan, making him giddy and almost violent in his caresses. Harry responded positively to his animal side rearing its head and began to shift his hips against Jacob's in little jerks at first and then in smooth circles.

A broad palm settled on the curve of his spine, slid down, and cupped his arse. He smiled against Jacob's ear, which he was re-acquainting himself with. Jacob, not hearing any protests, dropped his other hand from Harry's soft hair to join the first in kneading and fondling his fantastic ass.

Harry came to terms with the fact that his arse had never been groped before with a jolt of realization. Ginny hadn't been the type, and no one else had dared. He wished someone had, though, because then it wouldn't be such a huge bloody surprise that he was actually kind of sensitive there. Jacob was practically purring, keeping one hand plastered to his backside at all times as his other wandered across any part of Harry he could reach. His knuckles grazed Harry's zipper, and Harry gave him silent permission to continue with a particularly hard suck on his tongue.

A moment of fumbling with fasteners followed, and ended with Harry on the floor wearing nothing but his socks and pants with a panting Jacob between his thighs, desperately sucking on his hipbone. He decided to just relax and not freak out about this (it was his idea to open this can of worms in the first place), so he tangled his fingers in Jacob's short hair and massaged his scalp as he worked his way down the faint 'V' of Harry's abdomen to his crotch.

Harry stared at the ceiling as he tried to breathe, focusing on how the sun made it shade-blue on one side, sun-hazy on the other.

Jacob hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and slowly drew them down. Harry decided that it wasn't fair for him to be mostly naked (socks don't do much by way of modesty) while Jacob was still wearing his trousers. He wasn't daft enough to stop Jacob's path to his groin by saying anything, though.

Hot breath on a long-neglected part of his body reigned in his wandering thoughts and then smashed them altogether when it was joined by an exploring tongue. Too-hot fingers gripped the base, and then there was heat and wet and loveliness surrounding him. His hips bucked, and Jacob adjusted himself so that Harry didn't bruise the back of his throat by accident.

It was all Harry could do to not thrust into Jacob's mouth like a Wildman, and his frustration manifested in the form of sounds that he would be embarrassed about if he wasn't so turned on. Jacob began to bob his head, and when it began to actively try to swallow him whole (or at least that was what it felt like), Harry let out a keening wail and fisted anything within reaching distance. His head snapped to the side as pleasure, bordering on almost unendurable ecstasy flashed through his veins.

When his panting died down and the pretty colors began to resume their normal shades, he looked down to see Jacob grinning up at him, looking very pleased with himself.

Harry noticed with interest that there was no need for him to return the favor just yet. Interesting.

~000~

Dinner with Billy felt more awkward than it should have, but was it really Jacob's fault that every time he swallowed a bite of food, he was reminded of something rather different in his mouth?

~000~

Sunday morning dawned cloudy and lowering, but no rain fell. Dressed in his nicest pair of jeans and a shirt with only one tiny stain on the left cuff, Harry let Jacob carry him on his back through the woods to the bus station. Jacob insisted that it was so that Harry's feet wouldn't get muddy, but they both knew it was just another excuse for Jacob to be close to him.

Shy about public displays of affection despite their mutual attraction and admission of feelings, they sat at a respectable distance from one another during the bus trip, but their feet remained pressed together on the sticky floor.

The café they chose to meet for coffee in was in La Push, a semi-posh establishment that was still reasonably priced enough for Jacob to be able to afford frequenting it. Leah was already there when they arrived, sitting at a little table by the window. She hadn't ordered anything yet, and was flipping through a celebrity gossip magazine.

Jacob tapped her on the shoulder and she hurriedly hid the magazine. Harry grinned behind his hand, reminded of how Hermione reacted whenever he caught her reading something un-educational like a celebrity biography or ogling a male model in Witch Weekly, which she claimed to subscribe for the 'articles'.

Her only reaction to Harry was an intense once-over that made him feel a little violated and a dismissive grunt.

They were served café-au-lait in bulky cups, and Leah criticized each sip she took, much to their amusement. She also didn't notice when she got foam on her nose, and neither of them deigned to mention anything to her about it. Leah turned out to be surprisingly normal, and reminded him a bit of some strange combination of Ginny, Hermione, and Millicent Bulstrode (minus the stocky calves). He liked her, a lot.

When Jacob excused himself to go to the bathroom, Leah waited all of two seconds, barely long enough for him to go out of earshot, to lean forward and conspiratorially whisper, "So, are you two having _relations_?"

Harry remained cool as a fish in a pond and replied, "So what if we are? I wouldn't tell you one way or the other."

She smiled triumphantly, "So you _are _sleeping together!"

"Last I checked there was nothing untoward about sleeping with someone."

She frowned and then realized he was making fun of her wording. She kicked him under the table.

"God you're a dick. I don't know what he sees in you," her eyes were alight despite her insults, and he knew that he'd passed some sort of test, Which was lucky, since he knew Jacob and Leah were as close as siblings. The last thing he wanted was to become a cause of contention between them. 

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He snorted into his latte and then beamed innocently at Jacob, who had rejoined them and was looking at Leah with suspicious eyes. "What did you say to him?" he finally asked, the words slow and drawn out. She raised her hands in an innocent gesture.

"Nothing! I was a perfect angel to your little honey bee."

Harry choked on his coffee and had to be patted on the back.

On the ride back, Jacob asked what he'd thought of Leah.

"Leah is sloe-eyed, capricious, and adorable. I like her. Thanks for introducing us."

Jacob shyly pecked him on the cheek, "You're welcome."

~000~

End chapter 13

For those impatient perverts out there who are all, 'why isn't this porn?', I present this chapter. Hmph –sulks-


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: This story passed the 300 review mark! Thanks so much guys!

CHAPTER 14

Renovation work for Greg slowed down considerably after finishing Harry's house, which was both good and bad. It was good because it meant less time spent awake at three in the morning trying to make deadlines with the auto work, but it was bad in that he wasn't making nearly as much money anymore. Granted, Harry had tipped him heavily for his 'good service' and the pay for the wide assortment of tasks he'd accomplished was generous. Still, savings or no savings, it wouldn't last them forever.

He sighed when he saw that the sexually deviant housewife had requested him specifically to come clean out her gutters. Greg smirked at him when he relayed the emphasis she'd put on it being _Jacob _who came to do the job.

Jacob wanted very badly to call in sick, but he needed the money. Wearing very loose jeans and a shirt that covered him as much as possible, he paused before leaving. Standing in front of the mirror duct-taped to his closet door, he debated wearing a mask. Deciding that it would draw more attention rather than less, he stalked out the door.

An hour later he was standing on the upper rungs of a ladder digging shit out of Katie's gutters. Katie was doing Pilates in little more than her underwear by the window he had to pass by every time he descended the ladder to move it. When he moved to a different side of the house, she was there folding laundry. He rolled his eyes at her antics. At least she was wearing clothes and not wandering around the house naked.

He finished in record time, took his leave, and spent the ride back to the office wishing that Harry had a phone of some kind so that he could call him and hear his voice.

A tense feeling would begin to set in after several hours apart from Harry, and he found himself thinking about him more than usual. He thought about him when he was working (both jobs gave him a lot of time to ponder), when he was patrolling the forests of his territory, and even when he was asleep.

When he was halfway to the office, Greg called and gave him the names and addresses of two customers that wanted leaks fixed on their roofs.

~000~

Harry was surprised when Jacob found time to stop by on Wednesday afternoon; three days after their coffee meet with Leah.

Knowing his appetite only too well, he set about making some cheese sandwiches. Jacob ate three pickles while he waited. No longer content to simply watch him after a minute or so, he approached to stand behind him. Harry didn't flinch or object, so he casually wrapped his arms around his stomach and hugged him.

He couldn't see it, but Harry smiled.

"You should think about setting up some kind of trail to your house, if you plan on staying here for a long time," he succeeded in keeping the tremble out of his voice at the thought of Harry leaving him as easily as he'd left his home in England, "Not everyone has my navigation skills."

Harry nodded, "I've thought about that, yes. But that's not up to me. This is Sylvie's house, and she made it as a place where she could be isolated and protected by the confusion of the forest. Her antisocial feelings might have changed, but its still up to her."

He'd almost forgotten about Sylvie. He'd met her once, had a lot of his beliefs turned upside down, and then that was it.

"How _is _Sylvie?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder, finishing up the sandwiches and turning in his arms to hand one to Jacob, "I don't know, the same? She's kind of hard to read sometimes. I know she's working on a new project, though, and she seems pleased with it so far."

"Mm."

He stuffed the sandwich in his mouth in two bites, and the others soon followed. Harry watched this, finding it oddly endearing. Ron used to eat like that, back in school before Hermione strong-armed some manners into him.

"Jacob?"

He gulped and paused before starting in on the final sandwich, "Yeah?"

"Does your dad know about me yet?"

He froze. How could he have overlooked something like that? Thoughts of how his father might react to his newfound sexuality had occurred to him, yes, but he hadn't even considered telling him about Harry. Oh god, what if he had a problem with it? What if he thought Harry was taking advantage of him, or was too old, or didn't like that he was English?

Harry must have noticed his mounting distress because he quietly took the sandwich from his hands and guided him into the easy chair. After a moment of deliberation, he sat in his lap and began to toy with the auricle of his ear. Jacob's breathing began to slow and his irises returned to their normal size.

"Are you feeling better now?"

He nodded shakily. Harry opened his mouth to offer tea, out of habit, but shut it again when he remembered that he'd given up and burned his last box yesterday. It was just too weak and syrupy for him to endure it. He patted his cheek instead. Jacob scowled and slapped his hand away.

"Stop that! That feels weird!"

"Well gee, sorry," he pecked his forehead to soften his teasing and repeated his earlier question about Black Senior.

Jacob frowned, "No, he doesn't know yet. The awful part is that he doesn't even know I'm gay. I mean, should I tell him about both at once or wait like a week in between life-altering announcements?"

Harry frowned as well and chewed his lip, thinking.

"Wait a second…why is dating someone a life-changing decision? It's not like we're engaged or married or something. I mean, we have a sort of casual relationship, you know?"

Jacob bit his tongue around a confession of the imprint. Was now the time to tell him? How would he take that? After all, no professions of love had been made yet. Perhaps he should wait until then.

But what if that was years from now? Harry wasn't some impassioned teenager. He was an adult, and probably took things like love more seriously.

"Jacob? What's the matter?" 

He shook his head and forced a smile, "Nothing; I just remembered something. Anyway, I guess I could tell him both at once. That just leaves one thing: do you want to be there when I tell him? Or do you want to meet him first, see how he likes you, and then have me tell him after that?"

Harry sighed and thumped his head against his chest, snuggling into his customary flannel collar.

"Ugh, I don't even care. You decide."

He thought for all of two seconds and then hesitantly asked, "How do you feel about tonight?"

"Bring it on."

~000~

End chapter 14

Just a halfsie tonight.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Despite his earlier display of nonchalance, the thought of meeting Jacob's dad was terrifying. He'd known Mrs. Weasley since first year, and she'd accepted him as her own child from day one. Mr. Black, on the other hand, was a complete stranger. Would he see him as some kind of pervert for being with his 19-year-old son? Would he accuse him of corrupting his child by making him homosexual?

Palms sweating and bladder numb (he'd emptied it entirely an hour ago, and it felt strange), he debated the wisdom of grabbing Jacob's hand for support. Jacob took the decision away from him when he reached over and put his arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a one-armed hug. Harry let out a breath, closed his eyes, and tried to center himself.

They walked up the driveway in the light spring rainfall, neither of them in much of a hurry. When they were halfway down the drive, the door opened and Leah stepped out on the porch. She waved at them and shouted a greeting.

Harry felt Jacob cringe, and guessed that Jacob was afraid of how much she'd let slip to his dad.

He found and squeezed his hand, and then let go as they ducked under the low door hang. There was no entry-way. The door opened immediately into a general living area with a pair of ratty couches squeezed in with a coffee table, TV, and crooked floor lamp. There was a rag rug on the floor with a plastic container for wet shoes and umbrellas next to the door.

A middle aged man with the same nut-brown skin as Jacob waved to them from the sofa, smiling. He looked nice enough, and Harry noticed painfully that he had the same smile as his son: a sort of glorious beaming expression that immediately made you feel at home. A folded-up wheelchair rested against the wall beside him.

"Hello there! You must be Harry. Leah's told me all about you."

Jacob stiffened in the middle of shrugging out of his raincoat, and Harry smiled nervously.

"Uh, yeah," he toed off his shoes and came over to shake his hand, "it's nice to meet you, Mr. Black."

"Oh, don't call me that. Call me Billy, please."

His handshake was firm and startlingly strong. Harry realized that he must have built up a lot of arm strength from propelling himself around via wheel chair. Billy patted the sofa beside him and Harry took a seat.

Jacob hesitated, and then sat on his other side. Leah took over the entirety of the other couch, stretching out her long legs and retrieving a cup of what smelled like hot chocolate from the coffee table.

"So Harry, I hear that you discovered a property buried in the woods. That was lucky, eh?"

Harry nodded and replied, "I've been known to attract ridiculously amounts of luck, sir. The problem is that it isn't always good."

Billy let out a bark of laughter. That ice breaker out of the way, they watched soccer in peace for about an hour before Jacob got up to make dinner. Leah followed, and Harry could hear the dim buzz of their rapidly whispered conversation as they bustled around cooking. He felt Billy looking at him, so he turned his head and gave him a comradely look.

Billy nodded at him and then asked without warning or preamble, "So, how long have you been dating my son?"

Harry caught his breath and quickly scanned his face, using all the body language training he'd used as an Auror to read for signs of aggression in criminals. There was not even a flicker of judgment there, and not even any disapproval for their age difference. This was far better than he could have hoped for in his wildest dreams. At best he'd expected eventual tolerance, not outright support. He smiled shakily and replied,

"Just for a little more than a month, but it feels longer."

"I see. And were you two planning on telling me tonight?"

He nodded, "Y-yeah."

"Okay then. Should we tell Jake that I know or let him suffer?"

Ah, a man after his own heart. He grinned, "Let him suffer of course."

Billy slapped his knee, "I think I'm going to like you, Harry."

Jacob called out from the kitchen that dinner was ready, and Leah came out to help Billy unfold his chair. He hopped into it without assistance and wheeled into the kitchen, which was just large enough to fit the basics and a table with benches along the sides. Billy stopped his chair at the head of the table, and Harry took a seat beside Jacob on the far bench.

Jacob gripped his knee under the table, and Harry could feel that he was shaking. He almost felt bad for keeping him in suspense, but Jacob frequently played little pranks (anything from stealing his socks to sabotaging his pantry with well-placed bags of flour) on him so this counted as fair payback. Billy smirked at him around a mouthful of spiced rice, and Harry winked.

Right as Jacob was taking a bite of his fish, he innocently said, "Jacob, Harry tells me that there's something I should know about you two. Care you share that with me now or should we wait until dessert?"

Harry hid his smile at Jacob's panicked expression behind his napkin. Leah, sitting across from him, seemed to have caught onto what was going on and kicked Harry's leg under the table. He kicked back, smiling openly now as Jacob stuttered something involving the words 'Harry', 'together', and 'sorry'.

Billy scowled, and Jacob visibly curled defensively into himself, obviously prepared to weather a storm of parental rage.

No rage was forthcoming. Billy burst out laughing and clapped him on the back, pulling him into a man hug. Jacob made a sobbing sound, shoulders sagging with relief. Harry smiled at Leah and then joined Jacob in the hug, pulling him away from his father and into his own arms.

Jacob clung to him, breathing loud and heavily.

Drama over, they finished dinner while making light conversation; the couple were goaded into sharing stories of their relationship so far.

When they parted for the night, Jacob offering to drive Harry as far to his house as he could, Billy patted Harry on the shoulder and voiced his general approval of him as a human being. Not used to feeling such acceptance from adults who didn't know him from childhood or worship him for his heroism, he found himself moved.

In the car, he announced, "I like your dad a lot."

Several minutes later Jacob smacked him upside the head. Harry shrieked and demanded to know what that was for.

"That's for telling my dad and letting me freak out!"

Harry laughed and asked how he knew.

"I figured it out when I remembered that you didn't look nervous anymore when you came in from the living room." 

"Smart cookie."

Jacob blushed, "Don't call me that." 

Harry slouched over on the bench of the truck and rested his head against his side.

"I had a good time tonight."

"Good."

He turned on the radio, and they listened to awful country love songs and pop music about breaking up for the rest of the ride, content to just be together without talking.

~000~

End chapter 15

I consider this the second half of chapter 14, but whatever. I guess it stands alone.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: I watched Wes Anderson's film 'Rushmore' tonight and thought it was good.

CHAPTER 16

There was a lull in the introductions for most of a month, during which the temperature rose a little and there was a grand total of two honest-to-god sunny days. Harry was happy to have been introduced to Billy and Leah, but he was happier to have a break to actually get to know them better without bringing anyone else into the picture just yet.

Leah proved to be as intelligent as previously supposed, and emotionally mercurial. He joked with Jacob, paraphrasing Forrest Gump, "Leah's like a box of chocolates: you never know what you're going to get."

They went to see a movie together, cooked dinner together at her place while her little brother was out on a date, and had lunch as a trio whenever Jacob had enough time in between jobs to meet them somewhere. Harry noticed that Leah never sought him out without Jacob being there and that she brushed off his attempts to spend time alone with her and get to know her on a deeper level. He was a little hurt at first, but then decided that it didn't really matter. She tolerated him, and that was more than he had hoped for at the beginning.

He mostly worked in the garden these days, which seemed to go on forever. When he asked Sylvie why on earth she had such a massive garden if she never walked in it, she pointed out that the majority of the older plants were night-blooming. Cowed, he asked if he could plant some vegetables and flowers that he could see during the day.

She told him to go nuts, but leave the roses alone because of the natural deterrent they presented to deer and bears, and also because she used the rose hips to make soap every year.

Because he'd never had to plan a garden from scratch before, he ended up in a series of letters with Neville. Neville was more than happy to advise him and even volunteered to come down when the temperature stabilized a little more. All in all he felt pretty good about the vegetable garden, which required a lot of hard labor even with the assistance of magic. He didn't mind the labor because he'd always liked working with hands and it gave him something to do other than reading.

It was Saturday now, and Billy was out fishing with his friend Charlie Swan, who Harry hadn't met yet. This meant that Harry was at the Black's, sitting in the auto shop watching his boyfriend do impressive things with a wrench. It helped that Jacob looked fantastic in his coveralls.

Harry spent more time eyeing him than reading the newspaper.

Eventually his sixth sense told him that Jacob would be getting hungry soon, so he loped off to the kitchen and began making some easy peanut butter and honey sandwiches. He sang along to the radio as he worked since there was no one around to make fun of him.

That is, he thought that there was no one around until someone cleared their throat behind him. Whirling around, he saw a somewhat stocky teenager grinning at him from the doorway, a hamburger halfway to his mouth.

"Um, hello?" Harry greeted, his hand groping for the sharp knife he was using to slice an apple and gripping it behind his back. He didn't know if this was one of Jacob's friends or some kind of intruder. What kind of person just walked into someone's home unannounced, though? Honestly.

"Hey. I'm Paul. I'm a friend of Jake's. Is he around?"

Harry nodded, jerking his head towards the shop, "Yeah, he's out back. He'll probably come in here any minute to eat, though."

Paul stuffed the rest of the hamburger into his mouth and sauntered over to the counter. He stole one of the apple slices and popped it into his mouth. Harry kept his expression friendly, but his grip tightened on the knife. This kid could be lying, and he looked like he could hold his own in a fight.

"So, you must be Harry."

Harry frowned, "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Your accent gave it away. Leah said you were English and all, and last I checked Jacob didn't have more than one English imprint."

"Oh," Harry nodded and went back to work, relaxing at last. Paul must actually be a friend if he knew Jacob _and _Leah. Then his brain processed something funny about what Paul just said. His knife slowed, and he asked, "Imprint? Is that some kind of pet name in America?"

Paul laughed, "I guess you could say that, though not in the general populace. You _are _Jake's imprint, though, right?"

Harry frowned, stopping his chopping altogether. "I don't know. What's an imprint?"

"An imprint is the person a wolf is meant to be with," Paul looked at Harry and only got a confused response, so he expounded, "You know, the person our wolf genes force us to fall in love with. It's based on some kind of chemical thing that we can smell. When we see the person that is most compatible with our wolf, love hormones are released and we become kind of obsessed with whoever our imprint is. A wolf will then be anything they have to be for this person until they get them to love them back. I guess it's kind of like true love at first sight, but genetic. Do you get it now?"

Harry slowly released the knife, eyes shuttered. In a quiet, still voice that was utterly unlike his earlier tone, he said, "Yes. I understand perfectly. Please tell Jacob that I went home if he asks."

He headed for the door, shoving his feet into his boots and shrugging on his coat simultaneously. Paul came over, eating one of the sandwiches now, and helped him open the door.

"It was cool talking to you Harry. Be careful out there! We don't want you to slip and have Jacob's wolf side have a flip out, you know?"

Harry, jaw set in a harsh line, nodded curtly and stepped out into the downpour.

Inside, he was a storm of confusion and hurt. He should have known something was wrong. Jacob was always too good to be true. He should've known he was just manipulating him because of some freaky genetic force that he had no control over. True love meant both parties shared the love, not this twisted one-sided shit.

He let out a ragged breath that was really a sob and began to run.

Jacob probably didn't even like him.

~000~

End chapter 16

I believe I warned some of you that drama was coming. It has arrived. And yeah, this is short, but I am tired.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Jacob frowned when he realized that Harry had been gone for almost half an hour. He finished changing the windshield wiper fluid in Mrs. Rubelle's car, a regular customer, before stalking up the drive to the house. His mind conjured up all the horrible things that could've happened to Harry at the same time as it imagined all the ways he could surprise him if he'd become preoccupied. Billy wasn't around, so he could get very _creative _with his surprises.

He was not expecting to find the fixings for sandwiches cluttering up his kitchen but no Harry. He was also not expecting to see Paul sitting on his couch, eating sandwiches that only Harry could've made since they had the crusts cut off and had been sliced into strips.

"Hey Paul; Is Harry here?" even as he asked, he knew the answer was no. Harry's shoes and coat were missing, and his scent was already fading.

Paul shook his head and swallowed a bite of food, "Nope. He left a few minutes ago. He said he was going home."

Jacob frowned, confused. Why would Harry go home? He distinctly remembered Harry going inside to make him something to eat. Harry usually made snacks for them at that time, and he'd never just taken off like this. Had something happened?

A dark sense of suspicion bloomed in his chest, and he slowly asked, "Did you say something to him?"

Paul paused in his chewing, "Oh, yeah. I had to explain imprinting to him. What's the deal with that? Why didn't you explain that properly?"

Jacob felt the floor drop out beneath him. Everything he knew about the way Harry's mind worked flashed through him at once, and he saw in terrifying relief the future. A future that contained a Harry that hated him because he thought he'd been lied to, a Harry that wouldn't speak to him or even look at him. A Harry he would never hold or touch or kiss again. A Harry he might never get to see again, if he packed up and went home tonight.

With a strangled cry, he flew across the room and wrapped his big hands around Paul's throat. Paul struggled out of reflex for a second before his wolf recognized its Alpha and he shrank into a whimpering ball. Jacob wanted to beat him with his fists and break his bones for what he'd said, but his rational side knew that Paul hadn't meant any harm and that it would only hurt his relationship with his Pack.

He removed his hands, breathing heavily. Paul stared up at him with wide eyes, realization trickling into them. His mouth fell open.

"Oh shit! Jake, man, I am so sorry! Please, I didn't know. Oh god…"

Jacob crumpled to the floor and put his head in his hands. He tried to think of a way to fix this. He could try to reason with Harry, but Harry was as stubborn as an Oak in the face of a storm and wouldn't be moved. He could try to wear him down by stalking him and getting in his face, but Harry would see that as an invasion of his privacy and a refusal to respect his wishes.

Pressing his fists tightly in his closed eyes, he decided that, no matter Harry's reaction, he wasn't letting go of him without a fight.

"Paul?"

"Y-yeah?"

Paul sounded sad and terrified, and Jacob could smell regret and shame radiating from him. He reached out blindly, and Paul stumbled over to wrap his arms around him. Jacob accepted his comfort for a moment and then ordered, "Paul, look after the projects in the shop. There isn't much left, and I have detailed notes in the usual roster. I won't be at the Pack meeting tonight. Give my apologies to everyone, and tell Leah that she's in charge."

"Okay."

Jacob stood and began stripping off his clothes. Paul stayed still at first, but the set of Jacob's features showed that he was all-business now and didn't need any more support. Paul went outside to the shop, a hand clapped across his mouth. He still couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. He'd alienated his Alpha's imprint! What if they never made up?

Inside, Jacob took several deep breaths. And then he stepped outside into the rain and changed. He wouldn't give up no matter what. Harry was meant to be with him, and he would accept no compromise.

~000~

Harry was drunk. He thought about moving on the long walk home but discarded the idea. He was comfortable here and the garden had proved to have an excellent set-up for the growing of many different kinds of herbs used in potions. He'd already made plans to turn it into a nursery for him to grow, prepare, and sell potions ingredients to apothecaries. It would keep him occupied and provide him with some extra income.

Maybe the plants would attract some of the smaller clans of creatures that had migrated away long ago. Sylvie would be happy to see that, he knew.

He took a long drag from the bottle of luke-warm vodka and laid it back against his chest. He was in a bath, spelled to stay hot, and trying not to think about Jacob.

He was staying here, but he wouldn't be seeing Jacob again. The cold turkey method was probably the best way for him to get over his genetic urges imprint nonsense anyway.

When the tears began to streak down his cheeks and drop silently into the bath water, he resolutely thought about Hermione's crazy new co-worker, the one that worshipped the ground Luna walked on and harangued Hermione with all kinds of crazy stories.

The tears kept falling until his face felt puffy and sore, and his cheeks hurt from biting back sobs. And then he dipped below the water, curled his legs to his chest, and wished he could just drown and forget about all of this.

~000~

End chapter 17

It is almost 2 in the morning and my eyeballs hate me. Drama lovers? I present your fix.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Sylvie emerged from the linen cabinet, which she had fitted with a false back that led into her lair, and dragged Harry out from under the water by the hair. He was unconscious, lips faintly blue-tinged. She began to pound his chest with her fist and then performed the strange breathing mouth-to-mouth thing that she knew was standard procedure in this modern time.

Harry choked and opened watering red-rimmed eyes. He squinted at her as he coughed up a tiny mouthful of water and then let them slip closed. She waited patiently until his breathing and heart rate returned to normal before slapping him clear across the face.

He yelled and scrabbled back across the slippery tiles. She glared at him until he shivered, and hissed,

"Don't you ever, _ever _do anything like that again! I don't know what melodramatic shit is going through your mind right now, but there is never a good reason to risk your life just because you are having a hard time with whatever it is."

He flushed, ashamed as he realized that she was absolutely right. He murmured an apology, and some of the steel left her eyes. She reached out and cupped his chin, lifting his face to meet her eyes.

"Do you want me to go and make you some hot chocolate?"

He nodded weakly and accepted the towel she threw in his general direction. She slithered back into the linen cabinet and vanished behind her false door. Watching it for a moment without blinking, brain deciding to take a break, he slowly began to rub himself dry with the towel.

Sylvie was right. He _was _being melodramatic. Yes, everything he thought he knew about Jacob was now in question and very possibly a lie, but perhaps he was acting too soon.

Still, a shiver went down his spine when he remembered Paul's casual phrasing of how an imprint works. It was horrific to know that there were creatures out there that were human in most senses of the word but still dominated by a freakish twist of genetics.

Dried and shivering, he padded out of the bathroom and down the hall to his bedroom. He dressed in his pajamas despite the early hour and combed his hair. It needed cutting.

One of Jacob's shirts was hanging up in his wardrobe, and a moment of sentimental foolishness compelled him to lean forward and sniff it. It smelled very much of Jacob still, and was soft to the touch. He buried his face in the flannel and let out a sob. He didn't want things to end with Jacob. He didn't want their easy companionship and increasingly heated touches to go as quickly as they'd come.

He'd become used to having Jacob around, used to hearing his voice and feeling his touch. He couldn't imagine being happy again with anyone else.

Remembering that Sylvie was downstairs in the kitchen, he made a split-second decision and pulled on Jacob's shirt before heading out into the hall and down the stairs. It was stupid and girlish but he decided that he was allowed some time to be silly and lovesick.

It was excellent hot chocolate. Possibly the best he'd ever had. Certainly better than Molly Weasley's, and he used to think that hers was made by angels. Sylvie watched him drink it in silence, and then saw fit to say,

"That's got alcohol in it, by the way."

He raised his eyebrows, "Really?"

"If you can't taste it, you've been drinking too much; not that I can talk, of course," she came away from the far counter and sat at the table across from him. She poked his bare foot with her socked one under it and said, "You know that you can tell me what's going on any time you're comfortable, right?"

He nodded, sipped his cocoa, and replied, "Yeah. I just…I just need to let my brain work it out for a bit. It's too confusing right now."

Thankfully she accepted this answer and didn't speak again. Instead she pulled a book out of nowhere, opened it around the middle, and began to read. Occasionally she took notes in a little leather-bound book that looked like it had been expensive.

Harry just watched her and looked out the window and felt miserable.

~000~

Jacob would have made record time through the woods on his way to Harry's house if Leah hadn't intercepted him. He'd been so distressed that he didn't even smell her coming. It wasn't until she burst out of the bushes and tackled him that he became aware of her presence.

Snuffling and snarling with fury at being paused on his breakneck path to Harry, he almost bit her. A sharp smack to his nose with the flat of Leah's palm had him whimpering and reluctantly paying attention.

"Jacob, I just heard the news. I am _so_ sorry," she wrapped her arms around his thick furry neck and held him until he nuzzled her, returning her affection.

"Paul is a fucking cunt."

Jacob growled agreement, shifting into human form to better communicate.

"I almost strangled him before I realized what I was doing. He didn't mean it, but god I hate him so much right now!"

He didn't realize he was yelling until his throat started to hurt. He almost never raised his voice, and his vocal chords weren't used to it. Sitting naked on cold muddy leaves, he let himself feel some of the hopelessness threatening to overwhelm him.

"Leah, what if I've lost him for good? What if I never even get to see his face again?"

Leah was solemn, face gray with worry. "You know Harry and I weren't best friends forever, but he was really good for you. He made you a man, and a happy one at that. Please don't do anything stupid while trying to get him back, okay? On behalf of myself and the pack, I beg you to not fuck this up."

Jacob nodded, taking her hand and squeezing it.

She pulled away first and stepped back so he could have room to change. He nuzzled her neck once more before bounding away into the budding greenery. She watched him go, expression sad and conflicted.

~000~

The house looked the same as it always did, and he couldn't help but wonder why nothing had changed outwardly when things were so different inwardly. He sprinted down the steep incline of the woods and skidded to a stop outside the yew boundary before changing into his human body and climbing over it. The coarse branches scratched and cut any skin that made contact, and he was wincing as he padded carefully through Harry's garden. It was beautiful even in the gray of twilight, and he felt a surge of love for Harry.

There were lights on in the back parlor and kitchen, and he wondered which room Harry was in. he crept closer, sticking to the shadows so that he wasn't seen before he was ready. He peeped in the windows of the parlor and found it empty. The light came from a flicking fire in the grate and a blue-shaded lamp on the table beside the bookshelves.

Sylvie was sitting at the kitchen table. She wore one of her customary outfits of a black t-shirt and matching leggings, with stark white socks on her long feet. She was alone at the table, reading some thick dusty book. He frowned.

Harry padded out of the pantry with a tin of chocolate cookies (or biscuits, as he called them) and sat down across from her. He bit into one and turned to stare out the window next to the one Jacob was looking in. Jacob squatted, suddenly aware that he was naked.

This wouldn't have been a problem if Sylvie wasn't there.

He tried to strategize, but then he peeked again and saw that Harry was wearing the shirt he'd been missing for a few weeks. It was too big for him, and he'd only bothered with half the buttons. All the breath left him and hope took its place.

If Harry was wearing his shirt, there was a chance that he…

And then Sylvie came over and opened the French doors next to him. She peered around the edge and established direct eye contact. He made to cover himself and she snorted.

"It's a bit late for that, dear. Now, come inside before I drag you inside."

"Sylvie, who are you talking to?" Harry called from the kitchen, and then he was coming over and freezing when he sees Jacob sitting there in the long grass that grows close to the foundations.

Harry turned around and went back inside. Jacob gave Sylvie a pleading look and she rolled her eyes. Skeletal hands proved to be made of titanium as they hauled him bodily inside and flung him in the direction Harry had gone.

They collided at the foot of the stairs. Chest-to-chest, eye-to-eye, both out of breath and filled to the brim with unwelcome emotion. Harry looked away first, but Jacob grabbed him by the shoulders before he could bolt.

"Harry…" he meant to say more than that, but words failed him. Harry flashed a look at him from beneath his lashes, and Jacob wanted to pull him to his chest and never let go. The hurt and confusion there broke his heart. "Oh, Harry, please…"

He didn't know what he was asking for, but as Harry's eyes clenched closed and he dropped his chin onto his chest, he knew that he wasn't going to get it. His hands released his shoulders and Harry turned to ascend the stairs. He stared up after him, strangely cold without him in his arms.

Not looking at him, Harry whispered, "I'll talk to you in the morning. My head's not right at this very moment."

It wasn't much, but it was something. Jacob nodded though Harry couldn't see it and waited until Harry was out of sight before going back through the house. Sylvie was still in the kitchen, but she looked up when he joined her.

She jerked her head to the pantry, "There's food in there if you can keep something down. I'll make up that couch for you to sleep on tonight."

He could've kissed her.

~000~

End chapter 18

Well folks, guess what day it is? MY BIRTHDAY. So review and tell me how happy you are that I am one year closer to my deathbed. And complain about there being no sex in this chapter. Whatever.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

A light blue, delicate, marvelously sunny morning welcomed him.

Jacob had a crick in his neck from sleeping on a sofa that was inadequate for accommodating his height. His legs from the knees down were numb from hanging over the arm all night. Groaning, he stretched as best as he could and wondered why the hell he didn't think to sleep on the floor.

Thanking god that it was Sunday and that he didn't have to go to work, he padded into the kitchen. He had the quilt Sylvie gave him last night wrapped around his hips in a crude skirt. There was a plate of pancakes waiting in the oven, and he spared a smile for her. Despite her literally cold exterior, he knew she had a warm heart.

Not bothering with silverware, he sat on the floor next to the warm oven and rolled each pancake individually before stuffing them in his mouth. They were delicious, and he let out moans of happiness as he devoured them. A sick part of his mind protested that he wasn't allowed to enjoy food when things weren't right between him and Harry yet, but he batted it away. If things went south today, food might become his last physical pleasure.

His quilt twisted around his legs uncomfortably when he crossed his ankles so he set aside the plate, stood, and began re-arranging it.

"I wasn't expecting to wake up to a naked man in my kitchen, though I must say this is a pleasant surprise."

He jumped and turned pink when he turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, smiling shyly at him. Covering himself up, he bent to pick up the remains of breakfast and offer it to Harry. Harry picked up four and began to consume the first. Jacob watched him eat, hardly daring to breathe. Harry was being nice. Harry had smiled and made a joke. And good god, Harry looked beautiful in sunlight. He smelled good, too. He smelled like forgiveness and rationality, two things Jacob desperately needed Harry to be this morning.

The relief that Harry didn't hate him almost knocked him down.

Harry jerked his head to the table and said, "Why don't you sit down? I'll make us some coffee and then we'll talk about this thing properly."

He sat.

"Do you want toast? I think I have some jam around here somewhere…"

"Toast would be nice," he croaked out, his voice sounding foreign to him. It was like he was twelve all over again and didn't know what to say to a pretty classmate. He ate another pancake to distract himself. Harry began messing around with the toaster and then went into the pantry for a moment. He came out with three jars of jam and set them on the kitchen table with a spoon.

Jacob read the labels. Peach, strawberry, and blackberry.

Harry sat down across from him and his foot came to settle neatly along Jacob's beneath the table. He paused in his chewing, unable to believe it until Harry curled his toes. And then he grinned.

"So…" Harry started before stuttering back into silence. His cheeks were more flushed than usual, and a little frown line had formed above his eyes.

"So…" Jacob trailed off, waggling his eyebrows. The toaster disgorged a pair of perfectly browned pieces of bread.

Harry smirked and pinched his wrist. "Don't be a prat. Alright, I guess we should discuss this from the beginning, right?"

"Right."

Harry got up, grabbed the toast, and sat back down. He handed a piece to Jacob and began slathering jam on his, "Okay, let's start at where the trouble started. I went to make snacks. Your friend Paul came by and we chatted. He said…he told me that your kind of people, wolves, have a thing called an imprint. He said that you don't have a choice about whether or not to love them once you have seen your imprint, and that it's permanent because it's in your genes or whatever."

He paused and flicked his eyes up from his toast to Jacob's. Jacob swallowed.

Harry sighed, "So I, um, left. I was freaked out and very upset. Do you understand why I was upset and why I ran off like a scared little kid?"

"I can't read your mind, so I could be wrong, but I think you were afraid that I only like you because of the imprint. That and I noticed you don't like people making decisions for you or behind your back."

Something flashed through Harry's eyes and he pursed his lips, "You're smarter than you let on."

"Hey!"

Harry gave him a small smile, "All joking aside, you are right. I just wish you had said something! I understand why it might be embarrassing for you and why you might be unsure of how to bring it up, but I still wish you had told me instead of your friend."

"I was going to tell you, I swear! There just never seemed to be the right moment."

"It's fine. What's done is done. Now, I am willing to work with you on this. I know its part of your genetics and that you don't have a choice. I don't want to cause you some kind of psychological break-down, so what do you want from me?"

Jacob frowned. "What do you mean, what do I want?"

"I mean, what do you need from me to keep your imprint-thing happy? Without violating my rights, that is. If you just need to see me a once a week to make sure I'm okay, that is totally fine." Harry sat at the kitchen table, eyes resolutely cast down. In his lap, his fingers twined and untwined restlessly.

And then it dawned on him. "Harry, god, I don't just like you because of the imprint!"

Harry's head snapped up and he demanded, "How can you know for sure? How could you possibly know if your feelings came because of me or because of your imprint? I don't want to spend my life wondering why we're really together; wondering what will happen if I fall for somebody else."

Jacob felt like he'd been stabbed with something sharp and icy. He sharply inhaled, held it, and then exhaled slowly. The words that had failed him last night gathered around him obediently now and he softly said,

"Harry, I love you because I _choose to love you. _I knew how I felt about you days before I imprinted on you officially. And if my imprint cements that love, why is that a bad thing? I don't expect you to love me back right away. I won't lie: more than anything else in the world I wish that you will one day return my feelings. But if you never feel the way about me that I feel about you, I will find some way to handle that," he choked a little before swallowing his emotion back and continuing, "Hell, if you don't want to be with me at all, at least let me support you when you need somebody there and be a friend to you until we both die. And if you love somebody else, if you are happy, then I will be happy."

Harry was staring at him with wide glossy eyes. Jacob tentatively reached across the table and closed his fingers over Harry's hand. It was warm and a little sticky with jam, but it was Harry's.

Harry lunged across the table, scattering toast and jam and pancakes, and wrapped his arms around his neck. Jacob didn't question the time or the place. He just held him back, pulling him completely across the table and onto his lap. The chair overbalanced and the ended up on the floor. Harry was kissing him now, sloppy and heated, and Jacob could feel his head spinning.

Cold floor sending goose bumps across his backs, he let Harry take this where he wanted. Harry pulled at his quilt until it came apart, and Jacob couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed. Harry's expression and the way his hands touched him so gently and carefully said what he was afraid to admit out loud. Harry loved him back, whether he would admit it to himself yet or not.

Harry sat on his thighs and bent to mouth Jacob's jaw and neck, curving his back when Jacob took some action and possessively curled his hands around his hips, tugging him up until he could feel the heat of Harry's arousal through his sleep pants against his own. Harry made a pleased sound against his mouth and made some kind of graceful shimmying movement that had Jacob biting his lips and gripping his hips perhaps a bit too tightly. Harry made no comment as he arched his back up to move down Jacob's chest, stroking him with lips and fingers. He swiped a thumb across a nipple and Jacob jerked up against him.

Jacob felt like he'd somehow won the cosmic lottery. Harry's skin was soft and scarred and fantastic.

Harry's teeth scraped against his navel and he caught his breath in anticipation. But then Harry, true to form, stood and crooked a finger at him.

"Come on, let's not do this here. I don't want you to hurt your back on the hard floor. Let's go up to my bedroom instead."

Jacob was on his feet before Harry had quite finished. Without asking for permission, he scooped Harry up and sprinted for the stairs. Harry laughed and held on tight as he bounded up them four at a time and then slid down the hall until they reached Harry's door. He opened it and carried Harry inside. Harry waited until Jacob was sitting on the bed before he undid the buttons of his borrowed shirt and pulled it off. He wasn't being particularly slow or sultry with it, but the very fact that Harry was undressing had Jacob impatient and needy.

He shucked off his trousers and pants in one fell move. Now Harry stood before him bare and beautiful, and Jacob was struck dumb. This was Harry's essence, without flaw or frame. He held out a hand wordlessly and Harry took it, allowing himself to be pulled into his arms.

Jacob kissed him first this time, swiping his tongue against his lips. Harry pushed on his chest until he lay back on the rumpled covers. Jacob waited just long enough for Harry to climb on top of him, bare bodies meeting, to flip them over. Harry laughed a little at the spontaneous move, and then gasped when Jacob fastened his lips on his collarbone and sucked.

Hips met, shyly at first and then bolder as arousal spiked. Jacob began to heat up, sweat beading at his temples and lips parting to take in little gasps of breath. Harry arched and returned his thrusts, rubbing his hands up and down his back. He dug in his nails when Jacob nipped at his nose, smiling.

They did this until Jacob started letting out a little gasp every time his body dragged just so against Harry. Harry stilled him with a hand to his cheek.

"The lube is in the nightstand drawer."

His eyebrows went up but he retrieved it without comment. Apparently Harry had been prepared for this situation in advance.

"Condom too," he whispered when Jacob returned and went back to feeling as much of him as he possibly could. Jacob groaned but separated his hands from Harry's addictive flesh long enough to grab one of the little foil packets. Harry scrambled back into the middle of the bed and propped himself up on his elbows. Jacob decided that his shoulders were intolerably graceful and that they should be covered up when with other people so that Jacob alone would have the pleasure of admiring them.

Harry smiled invitingly, the chance sunbeams glinting off of white teeth.

He couldn't have stayed away from that beautiful man if he'd wanted to. His entire body surged forward to cover his, and he seduced Harry into a frantic kissing session that had Harry wrapping both legs around him and undulating like an ocean. Then Jacob had a moment of panic when he realized he wasn't really sure what to do next. Sure he'd imagined love making a million times, but his mind had skated conveniently over details like how he would manage to fit inside Harry in the first place.

Boldly dipping below the more insistent parts of Harry's anatomy to delicately trace their presumed connection point, his suspicions were confirmed. There was just no way this was going to work without some serious preparation. Harry was watching him when he looked up and met his eyes. He quirked a regal black eyebrow and said, "I love teasing and necking as much as the next person, but could you kindly get the fuck on with it? You're driving me crazy."

The idea clicked in his mind, and he grabbed the lubricant. He popped the lid and prepared to pour some out onto his hand.

"Condom first," Harry corrected, handing him the packet and explaining, "Your hands will be slippery later."

"Oh."

He handed the lube to Harry for safe-keeping. Oddly embarrassed now, he opened the packet and applied the contents. He was very glad he'd thought to practice this in the past. Harry watched, looking equally amused and aroused.

"I forgot how big you are," he said conversationally, handing the lube back to him. Jacob flushed scarlet, mostly with pride, and impulsively rubbed himself against Harry's sweat-slicked inner thigh. Harry positively purred at him and then handed over the lube.

"Do you know what to do with that?"

"I…I think so…"

Harry stroked his erection and Jacob moaned, falling forward to press his forehead into the piled pillows at the headboard. Harry chuckled and commandeered the lubricant. Slicking his hands, he let Jacob thrust slowly against his hip as he tilted his hips up and reached down to slide a finger inside himself.

Jacob pulled back to watch, eyes wide and fascinated. Harry used his free hand to tug on him until Jacob was trembling and trying to bat his hand away.

"Ah, don't, fuck, do that…Going to…"

Harry arched for himself and fit a fourth finger inside. He was going a little overboard, but he hadn't been flattering Jacob earlier when he commented on his size. He didn't want their first time together to be painful for either of them. Touching his prick with one hand as he curled most of his other as deep inside himself as he could reach, he made Jacob look at him with a flex of his thigh around him. Jacob let out a groan and practically ripped his hand out of him. Harry mewed, surprised but not pained, and then let out a sharp cry when Jacob braced both hands on either side of his head and began to slide slowly but inexorably into him.

Harry was extremely glad that he'd taken the time, impatient though he was, to prepare more than necessary. Breathing slow and deep, he felt no pain.

Jacob's impassioned murmurs against his neck inflamed Harry's growing adoration of him, and he carded his hands through his hair. Jacob began to thrust, carefully at first, and then with more force when Harry moved his hips with him, meeting and complimenting every twitch and slip of his.

Their lovemaking did not last overly long with both of them over-excited at the start. Jacob reached his peak first, rising up with straight arms as he pushed in impossibly deep. Harry followed a few moments later when Jacob's hand found him between their heaving chests.

They kissed lazily in the aftermath, sun-flecked and panting.

Harry drifted off to sleep and Jacob dozed lightly, curved around Harry as closely as he was able without their melding into one body. He didn't know how long they slept, but the sun was much higher and flooded the room with its brilliance when he next awoke. Harry was already conscious and tracing the lines of his back with an absent finger.

Smiling, blushing with their new closeness and both rejoicing in the free feeling that their new honesty had brought, they began to move. Harry pulled away from the warmth of Jacob's arms to sit on the edge of the bed.

He drew back his elbows to massage the back of his neck, and his white angelically lovely bare shoulder blades came together like folding wings.

Jacob lay on his side, half-covered by the blankets, and admired him.

"I'm going to go make some tea. I'll be back in a few."

He hummed, non-committal, as Harry stood and padded out of the room without bothering with clothes. He relaxed back against the pillows and didn't think about anything but Harry until he came back with a tin of biscuits under his arm and a mug of steaming tea in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He handed the water to Jacob and sat cross-legged in bed.

They spoke only in endearments and compliments until their throats had been parched and first pangs of hunger satisfied. Harry then crawled on top of him, eyes oddly feral, and made his intentions to spend the rest of the day in bed love-making abundantly clear.

Jacob couldn't think of a word of complaint.

~000~

End chapter 19

Further honest confessions will probably happen next chapter. Thank you very much for all the birthday well-wishes! That was very sweet of you all


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

The next morning was far less glorious than the previous. Sheets of rain pounded the roof and windows and lightning laced through the air accompanied by the organic rumblings of thunder. Jacob lay awake and watched the storm outside, feeling warm and comfortable and sated.

Harry was draped over him like a blanket and snoring just a little bit.

He played with his hair, rubbing the coarse fibers between finger and thumb. Harry didn't wake but snuffled and pulled away from his teasing hands. Jacob smiled against the pillow and admired him. Harry really was beautiful. He supposed that Harry looked like a normal guy to other people, his only distinguishing features being greener-than-customary eyes and his scars, when he let them be seen.

Through the eyes of love, every line and bump of his body appeared to have been hand-sculpted by a master. He marveled at the way his ribs gave way to belly, the junction of hip and thigh, and his marvelous feet. He worshipped his gorgeous shoulders, the twin lines of his collarbone, and the breathtaking shadow of his jaw line, now lightly stubbled.

Harry stirred when he ran a worshipful hand down his side, palm spread wide to touch as much cream-colored skin at once. Harry rose up on his elbow arms, folded them on Jacob's chest, and laid his chin on them to peer fondly down at him. Green eyes were still misted with sleep, accompanied by chapped lips.

"G'morning."

"Hi," was all Jacob could think to say back.

Harry frowned, gazing beyond Jacob's head at the little clock on the nightstand. He looked back to Jacob, lips pursed, "It's almost seven in the morning. Don't you need to go home so you aren't late for work?"

Jacob leapt out of bed as though electrified, mind frantically calculating times and locations and traffic and obstacles.

"Shit!"

Harry watched sleepily from the bed as Jacob scrambled around looking for his clothes before he remembered that he didn't have any. Jacob paused to plan. He would change, sprint home, change back, dress and maybe wash up, and then drive to work.

Plan in mind, he gave Harry a final look. Lying on the bed like a pampered prince, he's a little disheveled and flushed and Jacob really wanted to touch him, at the very least. Ideally he'd have hours and hours to do much more than simply touch. But there is no time, so he returns to the side of the bed, gets on his knees, and offers himself for a goodbye kiss.

Harry leaned in and brushed their lips together as light as two petals. And then he gripped the back of Jacob's head with surprising strength and his tongue is suddenly hot and _there _and flicking against his with insistent strokes. He is breathless when Harry releases the back of his head and whispers his goodbyes into his ear.

His mind remains comfortably warm and useless all the way home. He dressed as though on auto-pilot after the very briefest of spit baths. It isn't until he's brushing his teeth so hard his gums bleed that he realizes he is hungry.

He takes an entire bag of oranges with him in the car.

~000~

Harry lay in bed for several hours after Jacob had left. It wasn't until his bladder protested that he grudgingly got up to relieve it. Since he was already in the bathroom, he decided to draw a bed and just luxuriate for a while.

Certain parts of his body were tense or sore from the various positions they'd tried out the night previous. He smiled a secret little smile as he sank into the water. Jacob became confident after their first bout and proved to be a 'natural', if that was even possible, at sex. He just seemed to know what Harry needed, what would make them both feel good, and always, always when Harry was ready to slip over the edge.

He stretched his arms one at a time and then picked up the bar of soap.

"I hope you aren't intending to drown yourself again," a dry voice commented from the ceiling.

Letting out a world-weary sigh, he looked up to find Sylvie perched in the exposed rafters (the mouldings from before were rotted and infested with rats, so they had to go). She flicked her hair over one shoulder and gave him a challenging look, just daring him to sass her. He took the dare.

"Why the hell are you always watching me bathe, you great big pervert?"

She shrugged and dropped gracefully into a crouch. She picked up the flannel from its place hanging on the rim of the tub and gestured for him to lean forward, "Come on, I'll wash your back."

Grumbling, he let her coddle him in that strange way of hers. As she scrubbed him, she commented, "I wish you would give me more notice when you're going to spend an entire day fucking around. I couldn't get a wink of sleep."

Harry groaned and laid his head on the rim of the tub, humiliated and half-proud at the reminder of the events of yesterday. Events that involved a lot of petting and touching and…

"You had better not be reacting like that to me washing your back," Sylvie snapped, and he chuckled darkly.

"Oh Sylvie, my one true love, Jacob just doesn't understand me anymore- we could be so happy together!" he turned and made as if to reach for her. She cackled and crawled out of reach.

"Now who's the pervert?"

He smirked, "I wouldn't know._ I_ don't watch _you _in the loo."

"Anyway," she blatantly changed the subject, tossing the flannel at his face, "I heard Jacob came clean to you."

"Yeah…" Harry drifted back into daydreams, but a cold slap to the face brought him back to reality. "What?"

She was serious now, sitting cross-legged on the damp floor. He was getting worried at her silence when she softly asked, "When were you planning to come clean with him?"

He almost asked what about but then everything he'd tried not to think about these past months surged to the surface. Ginny. Magic. His friends. The War. Why he was here and not back in England where he grew up. Why he never wanted to leave. Who he really was, and who the Wizarding community perceived him to be even after all these years. How much it still hurt when he let thoughts of the past revisit him.

How much he cared about Jacob, scared though he was to say it out loud.

It wasn't fair that he should know about practically every detail of Jacob's life, past and present, while holding so much back. He sagged back in the water until the water lapped at his chin. He stared at the opposite wall with its little print of a naked baby misbehaving for his nurse (picked up Jake as a joke at a thrift store) and felt ashamed for forgetting.

"I don't know. Sometime."

"Soon."

He glanced over at her, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring at the floor, gray shadows deep under her eyes. She looked ill, and he wondered how long it'd been since she'd last properly fed or if that was his fault for keeping her up yesterday.

"Why the sudden interest?" He asked, shy all of a sudden. He began to scrub his foot as quietly as he was able.

She shrugged, "I don't know…I just…this whole misunderstanding you guys had made me think about how happy you are when you're together. I don't want to have to see that look on your face again."

"Which look?"

"The one you had on when you came back from spending time at Jake's house. You looked like somebody died. It was horrible."

He hurriedly swathed his body with the flannel, grabbed a towel, covered all the bits that needed to be covered, and then came out to squat on the floor beside her. He wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her close. She resisted at first but then let herself be, essentially, cuddled.

"You care about me too much."

She sighed, "I know."

~000~

The day seemed to go on forever. Jacob felt like he was checking his watch every hour when the numbers said it was only every fucking five minutes.

He repaired leaky roofs, painted birdhouses (why the hell did you need to hire a professional for that?), and even filled in potholes with gravel. All the while, he drifted on what could only be described as a pink cloud. The knowledge that his feelings were returned at last, not _casually _as Harry had put it, made him giddy as a goose. 

He wondered if Harry would want to get married one day, or just skip the ceremony and go straight to the happily ever after part. He wondered if they would one day adopt children.

He was grateful that Billy was having dinner with the Elders that night; he headed for Harry's house immediately after work in his other body. He remembered to tie a pair of sweat pants around his neck before going this time, not wanting to be stuck in the quilt skirt again. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his body, but rather that, despite his body temperature, he still got cold.

Harry was in the garden when he arrived, wearing a green sweater with the letter 'H' done in gold on the front.

Aware of him somehow, Harry straightened and waved to him.

They ended up sitting on the rug in the back parlor, Harry having delivered the damning words, 'we need to talk' as soon as their preliminary greeting and kissing had been done away with.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Jacob folded his arms to keep his hands from creeping into Harry's lap and tried to act normal.

"Well, Sylvie and her manipulative…_ways…_put me up to this somehow."

"Okay…"

Harry produced a plate of sandwiches seemingly from thin air and handed it to him. "You might need this," he muttered, drawing his knees up to his chest. "You know how I know a lot about you?"

Jacob nodded, chewing.

"And I haven't told you a lot about me?"

Jacob paused, swallowed, and nodded again. He was just going to keep quiet and let Harry say his peace. He was afraid that if he interrupted Harry might never finish.

"I don't know how to say this, so I guess I'll just show you."

Seriously confused, Jacob was about to break his new silence rule when the rug they were sitting on began to rise steadily into the air. His mind went blank, trying to make sense of this.

"Jake, I'm a…I'm a Wizard."

~000~

End chapter 20


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: This is chapter 21. I don't know how many more there will be. Probably not many, as Jake and Harry are finally almost done understanding each other.

CHAPTER 21

Jacob was stunned speechless. If Leah was here, she'd no doubt make some joke about how grateful she was that he was finally shutting up. His mind tried and failed again and again to process the information Harry had revealed to him. Physics…the _rules _of reality that he knew were bent a little to allow for things like his Pack and the Vampires they fought against were now completely obliterated.

He opened his mouth and the first thing that came out was, "Can you control people's minds?"

Harry frowned, "Um, sort of. There are spells to contort or erase memories, and ways to show your memories to other people. There are ways to read minds, and ways to keep people from doing so. And there's an Unforgiveable curse known as the Imperius, which is considered unforgiveable because you violate another person's freedom of thought, movement, et cetera. But, I mean, those aren't really common things for Wizards to do. Like, reading minds and blocking yours takes a ton of meditating and self-discipline. One of my professors at school tried to teach me but I was too impatient to learn it. That and we hated each other, which made things more difficult."

Jacob nodded slowly, and began to eat another sandwich. Harry sounded nervous but he was obviously trying to be professional about all of this, which Jacob appreciated. This all would've been a lot harder to bear if Harry withheld further information in favor of mysterious riddles or just flat out wouldn't answer his questions.

"So, you went to a school for Wizards?"

"Yeah; look, do you want me to just give you a brief summary of my life, and then you can ask me whatever questions you have? I don't want this to be any more confusing than it already will be."

Flopping onto his back, he rolled over onto his stomach and peeked over the edge of the carpet. The floor was about three feet down, and he reached down to trail his fingers in the dust bunnies that had collected beneath it.

"That sounds smart," he replied, other hand sneaking over to squeeze Harry's thigh. He could feel Harry smile at him before he felt his lovely white hands in his hair. In hushed but still audible tones, Harry told him the most incredible story he'd ever heard. If he wasn't positive that Harry wasn't crazy and had no motive to lie, he wouldn't have believed it. By the end of the narrative he was sure that there was no way Harry could've made it up. Truth is stranger than fiction, and Harry's life so far had been incredibly strange and tragic in equal amounts.

"So, technically you're still married?"

The hands that had moved down to massage his sore calves paused and then returned to their kneading. Harry's voice was thick when he replied, "Yes, yes I am. I don't…I wasn't planning to divorce her officially unless she formed a serious relationship with someone else, which I know she hasn't. But now that I have you, that we're not just messing around because we're attracted to each other, maybe its time to cut the cord."

He rolled onto his back and tugged Harry down on top of him. Harry wouldn't meet his eyes, choosing instead to give the carpet attention it did not deserve.

"Would you like me to divorce her?" he whispered after some time. Jacob bit his lip and nodded.

"Yeah. What if _I _want to marry you some day? I don't want some cheating hag standing between us."

Harry laughed at his description of Ginny and buried his face in his shoulder.

"Alright. We're in agreement. I guess I'll just ask Hermione about what she thinks I should do first, and get this ball rolling."

After a while, Jacob asked,

"Is there anything you _can't _do?"

"I honestly don't know the answer to that."

"Oh."

He trailed his hands under the collar of Harry's shirt, dragging them around in circles on his vertebrae. He couldn't hide all of his bitterness when he half-asked, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Harry snorted, "Why didn't you tell me about your wolf thing? Sylvie had to tell me about that, and then Paul spilled the beans on the imprint."

"I guess you're right."

He still felt a little angry and betrayed, but the knowledge of everything Harry had had to endure made him that much more determined to love and protect him until they died. The suspicions he'd long held that the mysteries of imprinting would make more sense once he'd experienced it himself proved to be correct. He now knew why a wolf rarely lived beyond the death of their imprint. The thought of life without Harry was unbearable. A bleak desert of loneliness and people who would never truly understand him sounded worse than death. At least they'd be together always.

"I love you."

His heart seized in his chest. He wasn't sure if he'd imagined the words at first, but the way Harry leaned over him to kiss him on first the left corner of his lips, then the right, and finally full in the middle. Jacob hummed, chest vibrating with his rapidly soaring feelings, and wrapped his arms around Harry's warm back.

Things went downhill rapidly from that point on, and their cuddling and cosseting (as Sylvie would sneeringly call it) soon led to uncontainable amorous excitement. Clothes were pulled off, hands slipped and entwined as legs copied. Teeth bumping, hearts leaping, they devoted themselves to each other.

The carpet continued to hover peacefully, swaying gently from side to side like a hammock as they went through the neat interplay of harmonious motions now so familiar to them.

~000~

End chapter 21

As stated above, things are on the downswing now. I say this because, if you noticed any loose ends or wanted me to try and do something before this ends, NOW IS THE TIME TO TELL ME. I'm not writing a sequel, man.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: I don't know if this will happen, but if my updates slow down at all, it's because another brother of mine is getting married and I may get busy. I am going to do my damnedest to update as often as possible while I still can.

CHAPTER 22

A week later Hermione stepped through his temporary Floo and shook the ash out of her hair while she looked around the front parlor. It was the same room he spent so many drunken nights with Sylvie in, nights that only happened now when Jacob couldn't sneak away to spend the night with him. It was painted pale blue now with silvery green colors complimenting it. She nodded with approval.

"You guys did a nice job decorating," she commented, slipping off her practical shoes and lining them up neatly on the hearth. And then she grabbed Harry in one of her famous smother-hugs, which always seemed to force half of her hair into his mouth and eyes. He didn't really mind it this time, and held her back just as tight.

He forgot how much he missed her.

"I'm really glad you're here," he whispered into her neck.

She pulled back and smiled at him, wiping away tell-tale dampness from the corners of her eyes, "It's good to be here."

He led the way to the kitchen, where he'd made a lunch that was more elaborate than the usual fare of soup or sandwiches. Today there were chilled slices of roast lamb and a French potato salad, and a bottle of Merlot. She grinned at the spread and seated herself with obvious relish.

"It looks like your cooking skills have expanded," she remarked, serving herself without preamble. He sat next to her and poured wine. Sylvie would be irritated if they drank all of this by themselves, since she'd been eyeing it with a predatorial gleam in her eye ever since he brought it back from the store. He made sure to pour extra-generous servings just to spite her.

They ate in peaceful silence for a few minutes and then Hermione asked with an all-too-knowing, "So where's the home-wrecker?"

He choked on his wine, laughing. He slapped her on the arm a few times, shouting incoherently, and she shrieked, reaching over to mess up his hair. For a moment they felt like school kids and not the adults they were. When they subsided, panting and grinning, he replied,

"He's at work, most likely for one of his many adoring housewives. He has a solid customer base of stay-at-home moms who routinely try to seduce him while he does stupid tasks around the house."

"Aren't you scared he'll be tempted away from your side?" she sipped her wine, giving him her curious face.

"Not in the slightest. I don't think he's even capable of checking someone else out."

Her eyebrows went up, and he realized that he was not going to end this lunch without explaining the imprint nonsense to her. With a long-suffering sigh he told her the whole story. By the time he finished, she'd eaten half the potato salad from excitement. Her eyes were wide and sparkling with new knowledge.

Hungry now, he devoured what was left on his plate while she pulled out a sheaf of parchment and began taking rapid notes. She'd covered three sheets by the time his fork scraped the bottom of his plate.

"This is fascinating!"

He grinned at her enthusiasm. Bringing their glasses and the bottle of wine, he led the way upstairs to the study he barely used. There was a wide table there and shelves for the millions of books she had no doubt shrunk and brought with her, so they could spread out and get some serious work done.

As he'd thought, she opened her bag and pulled out dozens of miniaturized books, bound with string according to some categorizing system only she understood. He watched from his comfortable leather swivel chair (stolen from Sylvie) as she re-sized them and arranged them on the mostly empty shelves. Her tongue stuck out from the corner of her mouth and her frown lines deepened as she sorted and re-sorted them by importance.

Finally she finished faffing around with the books and came to sit down across from him.

"Okay Harry, tell me everything. I need to know everything about what led to the separation and your motives for ending the marriage now instead of earlier or later."

With a groan, he launched into the full painful narrative, occasionally consulting the notes he'd made. He anticipated this question and made sure he remembered everything the day before last.

When he finished, she nodded, scribbled one last note, and then stated rather than asked, "So, essentially, Ginny was the one who actuated all of this?"

"I guess so."

"Right…so she wronged you first, you separated, and now you want to end things completely because a creature has named you his life mate, so to speak, and you return the feelings of this creature."

Said in such cold, professional tones, everything seemed rather…bleak. He nodded anyway. She sent him a bright smile and had a sip of wine.

"This will be easy, then. Not that it wasn't going to be before. The press still worships you and they'll be ecstatic about turning your marriage into a tragic story of love and betrayal. The public won't object at all to you cutting her off."

He raised his hand to speak, felt ridiculous, and put it back down, "I wasn't planning to cut her off, so to speak. I was thinking about giving her a monthly allowance."

Hermione frowned, "Why?"

"I don't know, for old time's sake?"

Still frowning, she made a note, but her disapproval was clear. He groaned.

"Unless you think it would be unwise."

She perked up, "I think so. Ginny is a grown woman with gainful employment. She doesn't need, or deserve, an allowance."

He shrugged, feeling saddened. He'd tried not to dwell on Ginny's treatment of him, but now that he was faced full-on with her behavior again, he couldn't help but ask, "How is her mum taking all of this?"

Hermione shook her head, a shock of pity appearing in her eyes, "Not very well. No one is angry with you, but there was a fair amount of outrage at her. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have always been faithful to each other, and Percy and Bill haven't done anything stupid in their marriages. And you know Ron and I have behaved ourselves. Molly was crying a lot the first month. She told me…she said she felt like a failure as a parent. Ginny hasn't been home since the break-up."

"I see."

Hermione laid her hand over his, squeezing his fingers. "They still love you. You know Molly: she says you'll always be one of hers."

He smiled wanly and squeezed back, "Thanks."

"Enough of this emotional nattering on!" she exclaimed later, shoving a book into his hands, "Here, read that while I do the skullduggery. Do try to be quiet, alright? I need look up the proper laws for creatures and such for your case, and I'll want to concentrate."

He agreed and looked down at the title of the book. He promptly flushed scarlet. She'd given him a book on gay sex positions!

"Hermione!"

She cackled and ducked the handful of quills he flung at her, shrieking, "You'll thank me later, you brat!"

~000~

Jacob was annoyed and bored. So far today he'd rebuffed a grand total of six obvious come-ons. First he'd been asked to get a lady's cat out of tree; she then pressed herself against his bicep and asked if there was any way she could repay him for his bravery. He'd said cash.

The second had purposely slipped on a patch of late-spring ice and had him rub salve on a tiny bruise on her knee. She'd then tried to get him to touch her chest. It wouldn't have been so revolting if she wasn't 60 and missing most of her hair.

The rest were too heinously mind-destroying that he'd suppressed them all into his subconscious and refused to think about them. He understood that these women were lonely, yes, but was this really necessary?

Now he was just sitting in the office waiting for his next call. Greg told him that someone had called earlier about getting their bathroom re-tiled and that they would call back when they'd picked up the tiles from the hardware store.

It'd been almost two hours and he was ready to kill something. It was paid waiting, but he hated not having anything to do. He leaned back in the folding chair and closed his eyes. The fluorescent light penetrated his eyelids with solid scarlet. He shifted forward and put his face in his arms.

He thought about Harry, which had become his habit. But this time he thought about Harry as a married man. He'd seen Ginny was redheaded and pretty, and pretty athletic. He wondered if Harry still had feelings for her. what if he fell for her again when they went to England to handle the divorce proceedings?

He'd managed to depress himself immensely by the time he was called to tile the bathroom. He worked at a super-human pace, not caring who saw him, and managed to tile the entire bathroom _and _their mudroom in less than two hours. The man who'd hired him stared at him with awe as he packed up his supplies and rattled off the usual warnings of not walking on or wetting the floors until the next morning.

Finally he gasped out, "What are you made out of, son?"

"Flesh and blood just like you," he smiled, saluted, and took his leave.

A quick call to Greg let him know that there had been no other calls. He was free to go home.

Billy was sitting in the kitchen when he arrived. Jacob froze when he saw that he was holding their financial statements, and Jacob's last paycheck. He forced himself to put on a pot of coffee and to go about the normal motions of preparing dinner for the both of them.

Finally Billy asked in a quiet voice that was utterly unlike him, "Son, when were you going to tell me about this?"

He closed his eyes and decided to tell the truth, "Never, actually."

"Jake, all these months that I thought you were out with your friends or with Harry, you've been working? Why wouldn't you tell me something like this?"

He shrugged and turned to look him in the eye, "I just…I didn't want to worry you, or make you think that you had to go back to work."

Hurt flickered through Billy's eyes before he covered it up and sat up straight in his chair, "I know that I am a cripple, but that does not mean that I'm not capable of getting a job."

"No, dad, I don't want you to give up your place as an Elder just so we can pay our bills. We're more than making it now, and I'm getting lots of experience. The shop is doing better now that I can afford to put us in the Yellow Pages," he offered up a smile, "Things are fine now, dad. I fixed it. You don't need to work."

Billy swallowed and looked back down at the paycheck.

"Are you happy like this? Working two jobs to support an old man?"

Jacob's smile was more genuine this time, and he came over to kneel beside him, "I'm very happy. You know me: I've never liked to be lazy, and this way I can keep busy and keep a roof over our heads."

Billy accepted this and they said no more about it until they were eating their customary dinner of fish, bread, and salad.

Then he asked, "How do you find time to be with Harry?"

"I go after patrols when I can, and we have weekends together. Sometimes Harry comes up here, if he isn't working on some project with his garden, and keeps me company when I'm in the shop."

Billy nodded and went back to eating.

Jacob felt huge relief now that his secret employment was out in the open. He'd never kept secrets from his dad, not since his mother died, and it'd weighed on him to hold things back.

He went out to the shop after cleaning up and making sure that Billy had everything he needed.

Harry was sitting on the bench shining a hubcap when he came in, and an unfamiliar female was twirling on the swivel chair. She was maybe 30 years old with a cloud of thick brown hair coiling around her head. She was slim enough and probably tall judging from how long her legs were. She wore a simple tweed suit with a rose-colored blouse, and was in her stocking feet. He assumed she'd kicked her shoes off at some point.

Harry spotted him first and sprang up and into his arms with a big silly grin on his face. Jacob couldn't make fun of it because he knew he was wearing the exact same expression. Harry kissed his cheek twice before pulling away and pointing at the strange woman.

"That's Hermione, who I told you about. She'd doing the legal nonsense."

She paused in her spinning when she was named and gave a little wave.

"Hello."

She was a lot prettier than he'd been expected, and a jealous voice piped up inside of him, saying, _What if all of Harry's friends are so attractive?_

~000~

End chapter 22


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: I dislike music snobs, but I have to say that people who don't have at least _some _appreciation for Edith Piaf must be cretins or were raised by rascals.

CHAPTER 23

Hermione's smirk when Jacob escorted them home and then joined Harry upstairs stayed with him as he stripped down and crawled into bed beside Harry. Harry rolled over to face him, reaching out to touch his cheek. He turned his head and kissed his palm and Harry smiled.

"So what do you think?"

"About Hermione?"

Harry nodded, snuggling closer and somehow slipping a leg between Jacob's to rub his thigh with agonizing slowness against his growing arousal. "Mm-hm. You were nice to her tonight, but do you like her or are you just pretending to for my sake?"

"I like her; she's really smart," he poked Harry's nose, "When you described her before, I don't think I fully understood just how smart she really was. Is."

He could tell Harry was pleased with this by the hand that crept down to tease him beneath the covers. His breath began to emerge in pants, and he gripped Harry's shoulders as hard as he dared. Harry gave him a slow smile that turned every thought in his head to liquid.

They didn't talk for the rest of the night except to say 'good night'.

~000~

Jacob remembered to set an alarm so he wouldn't be late for work. Apologizing softly to Harry for waking him, he accepted his sleepy kisses and then padded downstairs. He came out the end of the hall and saw Hermione standing in the back parlor.

A tortoiseshell comb in her chestnut hair caught the amber sunlight. One of the French doors was open, and she chirped softly to a sparrow while tossing little bits of biscuit to it. It bobbed and cavorted on the damp patio, nipping up the crumbs she tossed and chirping back between swallows.

Jacob watched with a smile as he tiptoed into the kitchen to make coffee. Harry choked it down sometimes, but usually he was the one to drink it. He scowled when he saw that Harry had bought the wrong filters again. He was forced to mangle the too-large filter down to a reasonable size and adapt.

While it brewed he attached a semi-nastily-worded sticky note to the box stating the correct brand of filter and why this was important to him.

Hermione joined him in the kitchen a moment later and asked if she could have some coffee as well.

"It's bitter," he warned, getting out a second mug.

"Oh, I know. I like it black."

"Ah," he was reluctantly impressed. Harry had led him to believe that the British people as a whole disliked bitter things. His frequent whining that coffee had been invented by the Devil himself was pretty amusing though.

He poured, conflicted about whether it was awkward that neither of them was saying anything or not. Should he say something? Should he let her? What if she really didn't want to talk?

"So are you nervous?"

He jumped and almost spilled coffee on himself. Registering her question, he nodded with a sheepish smile, "Yeah. It's going to be weird meeting all these people Harry has been friends with since he was a little kid. I hope they like me and stuff, you know?"

"Oh they will. You're completely adorable."

He pondered whether or not the word 'adorable' was a compliment when applied to him. He was saved from tying his brain into knots when Harry came stumbling into the kitchen and immediately began to make toast.

~000~

Jacob managed to get a week off of work from Greg so he could accompany Harry and Hermione to England for the formal proceedings. Before he left he talked Paul into doing stuff at the shop for him (and to keep a covert eye on Billy). Paul had been more pliable ever since his screw-up about the imprint and made only a token objection to the plan. Jacob then asked Leah to make sure Paul didn't fuck anything up, which he was liable to do.

So here he was sitting on the sofa waiting for the ride of hell. His palms were sweating and his head pounding as he waited for the 'Portkey' ride Hermione had insisted would be cheaper, faster, and easier than 'Muggle' transportation. He was happy to not be paying for a plane ticket, but the way Harry described this last night made him want to puke.

Harry came strolling into the parlor with his bag. Setting it down on the floor next to the hearth, he went into the kitchen and came back out with a bag of chips. Sitting on Jacob's lap, he offered him the bag. Jacob accepted it despite his nausea and ate about half until he noticed the funny look Harry was giving him. He offered the bag back and Harry laughed, taking it and popping a few in his mouth.

"God, you're such a pig."

Jacob pinched his ass, "It's not like you need to be eating junk food."

Harry slapped the top of his head, "Don't be a prick!"

Hermione chose then to bustle in. she put her hands on her hips, "Hey! No fighting!"

They both looked down meekly as she stalked over and shoved an old toothbrush into their hands. Jacob cringed and touched the tip. Hermione made him grip harder, grabbed her bags, and began a count-down.

When she reached 'one', Jacob felt like he'd been jerked off the face of the planet. He went round and round and he squeezed his eyes shut. That only made the swirling sensation in his stomach get worse, and he had to hold his breath to keep from emptying it.

He landed flat on his face on what felt like marble tile.

~000~

End chapter 23

THEY'RE IN MERRY OLD ENGLAND! Which is less merry after a Portkey ride, I am sureHey.


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

He got to his feet with some difficulty, initially humiliated. Seeing Harry in a similar state made him feel a bit better about things, even though Hermione appeared to have landed gracefully on her feet. Which he supposed was good, since she was wearing a skirt and it would most likely have flipped up around her ears if she'd landed the way he did.

He helped Harry get his bearings. Hermione watched them with a fond little smile hovering around the corner of her lips. Able to concentrate on their surroundings properly now, he looked around and saw that they were standing on some sort of platform. At first he thought the room was lined with mirrors because the same platform seemed to go on and on, but then he saw that they were on only one of many Portkey landing spots. An elderly couple appeared directly across from them to the left, weighed down by a birdcage full of canaries and more bags than they could possibly need.

A bored-looking man sat behind a podium in the far corner of the room. As he watched, he put his mouth to a microphone and intoned,

"Would the travelers standing on Platform 173 please move elsewhere? Another appointment is scheduled in the next minute."

Jacob realized that the man was talking to_ them_ when Harry grabbed his hand and dragged him off the platform and down the narrow walkway in between the various platforms. Hermione was already striding off into the distance, swinging her suitcase merrily. Jacob continued to stare fish-eyed at everything they passed. It was gorgeous here!

Perhaps it was the fault of the Salem Witch Trials influence, but he'd been half-expecting the Wizarding Ministry to be a barn. Certainly not this opulent palace-like building with floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the place in sunlight and glittering off of the many chandeliers and crystal decorations. They moved into a big hall that was crowded with strangely-dressed people. Many of them wore 'robes' as Harry has told him earlier, but some wore very colorful 'Muggle' clothes. There were a lot of hats from many different countries and time periods.

In the center of the long hall was a statue of a man. He squinted at it as they plowed through the crowd towards the long row of elevators. It was maybe 20 feet tall and either gold or gilded to look like gold. He gasped when he realized that it was a statue of _Harry. _He looked more dignified than he'd ever seen his sweetheart manage to be. His statue was poised over the body of some kind of humanoid creature with no hair and slit-shaped eyes. He supposed that was meant to be Voldemort.

He couldn't help but look at Harry with new eyes after seeing that. Harry had complained about the press and slander that had plagued his life in England, but on some level he hadn't really believed in it until now. Harry was a hero, a celebrity.

Why the hell was he dating someone like Jacob? His people had been the poorest class in America for hundreds of years now and he owned a fucking auto shop! That was hardly the kind of thing you'd expect the lover of this hero to do for a living.

So far no one had stopped Harry, but he could hear the low murmurings that followed in their wake. Hermione jerked to the left at the last minute, opening a thick mahogany door that revealed a circuitous stone staircase.

They headed down it. As they went, Jacob tried to read the many plaques on the walls. They were mostly lists of philanthropists who'd dedicated their fortunes to the Ministry, but some of them were little profiles, often with an etching of the person's face. There was one for a man named Mordecai Marion, who had apparently founded the Unspeakable Dept., whatever that was. It sounded familiar, though, so he supposed Harry must have mentioned it.

Finally, after a long walk through countless corridors and past a disturbing number of people sitting morosely on benches with manacles on their extremities, they reached the correct courtroom. The clock chimed the hour of their appointment. He caught a self-satisfied look on Hermione's face, no doubt about their punctuality, before she pushed open the doors and led the way inside.

It was a small room, smaller than he'd been expecting. There was a carved wooden desk set up on the far side, a row of chairs for any observers that chose to come, and two smaller tables across from the desk.

A redheaded woman was sitting with her back to them at the left table, a short man with very little hair seated besides her smoking a pipe.

Harry gestured for Jacob to have a seat in one of the observer's seats, giving him one last smile before setting his suitcase next to him for safe-keeping. He then joined Hermione at the right-hand table. Jacob saw her squeeze his hand out of sight of the redhead.

The temptation to glare daggers at the back of Ginny's head was strong, but curiosity and a desire to show some maturity over-whelmed that. So this was the woman that he'd been married to for all those years. He couldn't see much of her with her back to him, but he could tell that she couldn't be more than average in height, that her hair was thick because of how much of it there was pinned up, and that she either regularly exercised or was an athlete because of the set of her shoulders. She wore an olive-green blouse and a brown leather skirt. Suede boots laced up her admittedly-shapely legs, disappearing into the hem of her skirt.

He squinted and thought he spotted the sparkle of a charm bracelet on her wrist.

For a witch, she looked attractively normal. So did Hermione, but her parents had been normal. He'd almost been expecting Ginny to sparkle or something.

And then Ginny turned her head just a few degrees and looked straight at Harry. Harry turned his head and returned her look. He could see Harry smile politely, and her returning look of pleasant greeting. They nodded to each other, and then Harry jerked his head in Jacob's direction. She turned in her chair to look at him. Her eyes moved slowly down from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes and then back up again just as slowly.

Her eyes were round and hazel; her nose perked up at the end, freckled and oddly adorable in the serious womanly features that made up the rest of her face. She wore little make-up other than pearl-pink lipstick that matched her pearl earrings. It was a nice face. She smiled faintly at him and then turned back around as a new person entered through a concealed door.

He looked like someone straight out of a history book. Dressed in scarlet robes trimmed in gold stitching and wearing a massive (and heavy) white curly wig, he was every inch the judge of yore. He seated himself with a grunt and sent a disapproving look at Ginny's lawyer, who obediently put away his pipe.

He tried to pay attention to the proceedings, he really did, but everything was terribly boring. Hermione read her statements, Ginny's lawyer, Mr. Boland, made no effort to deny the claims and stated that Virginia Potter was content to follow her husband's wishes. Property was sorted out, funds organized, and an allowance set up for Ginny to live off of should she lose her current vocation.

Jacob didn't approve of that, but after a particularly pleading look from Harry, he kept his disapproval to himself.

They were finished within an hour. The judge was the first to leave, followed by Mr. Boland, who simply nodded to everyone before sticking his pipe in his mouth and leaving.

Alone now, an extremely uncomfortable silence descended. He looked from Hermione to Harry to Ginny. None of them were looking at each other at first. Hermione broke the silence,

"Well, that's that, then."

"Yeah…"Harry scratched the back of his head, and then took off his glasses and cleaned them.

"Right…I'll be going now, I guess," Ginny shouldered her purse and made for the exit. She nodded and smiled at Jacob as she passed. Her hand on the door handle, she turned and called, "Harry? Thank you. For the money, I mean. It'll really help when I get sacked."

He gave her a wry smile, and she chuckled low in her throat before passing through the doors. They swung shut behind her. Jacob frowned and asked what she'd meant as Harry and Hermione began gathering their things. Hermione looked a little strained, so Harry said,

"I realized that news of why we split would leak out somehow. It always does, and when it does…well, people aren't going to like Ginny very much. She'll lose her job most likely and may even have to move to another country or go into hiding until everything blows over."

Jacob blinked. He hadn't thought about that.

"That…"

"Sucks? Yeah. But we both knew what we were getting into when we got married, and she's a big girl. She'll slap anyone with the nerve to say something to her face about this."

He couldn't think of anything to say to that, since he didn't know anything about Ginny other than what Harry had told him. Harry changed the subject a moment later anyway, so he was saved the need to make an anecdote. Hermione butted in and asked Jacob if he was alright with curry. He just shrugged.

"I've never had it, so I guess so."

She frowned and pestered him about allergies until he explained the wolf genes healing properties. She was impressed and didn't bring up the issue of unfamiliar food again. Jacob decided to keep it to himself that he wasn't a fan of intensely spicy food and could have easily lived life without ever tasting curry. He would probably have to tell Harry though, because Harry was writing down the names of the dishes and making a note to locate recipes.

After eating, they split ways. Hermione promised to pass their greetings onto her husband, Ron, if he came home that night before she fell asleep. He was on an Auror mission of some kind, apparently, and had been away from home for two days already.

They were too tired and suffering from the residual disorientation of the Portkey and time zone change to do anything but exchange a few sloppy kisses before drifting off to sleep.

~000~

End chapter 24

This chapter did NOT want to get written. Urgh.


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

Jacob felt fully recovered come next morning and rolled onto his side to find Harry already awake, green eyes watching him with a telling glint. He didn't dally around but immediately pulled Harry on top of him and let Harry dip his mouth against his.

He brushed his thumbs along Harry's neck, discovering the pale trace of an inch-long cut that ran parallel to his vertebrae. He pulled away from his seeking lips and hoisted Harry up so that his face was level with his warm white adorable skin.

"Where did this come from?"

"I don't remember," Harry sighed into the pillow above Jacob's head, scratching his nails across his scalp and down his shoulders. Jacob hummed and kissed it.

"We're meeting the Weasleys for lunch today," Harry reached into the nightstand as he spoke, pulling out the supplies he'd stashed there when they unpacked. Jacob took the rubber, used to the routine now. He hadn't asked about doing anything without protection after a covert Google session that revealed that, first lover or not, it just wasn't a good idea.

Harry sank down onto him sooner than he'd been expecting, and his hands dug into his hips. Harry smirked with clenched teeth and rolled his hips. Jacob arched up into him and did his best to keep up with the rapid pace Harry chose. Normally their early-morning trysts moved at a slower, lazier cadence. He wasn't complaining about the change, though. Harry always did like to keep things necessary.

He accepted the cool-lipped kisses Harry found time to drop on his face, and laughed at the tongue flicking out to taste the beads of sweat that formed at his temples. Harry reached over him to grip the headboard as they hit the final stretch, and he had to bite his lip to stifle a loud sound when Harry threw his head back and his insides began to tense, squeezing tighter and tighter as he crested the wave of their combined passion.

Heavy and limp in the wake of his completion, Harry suckled on his chest without direction. Jacob bore the sudden stillness for as long as he could and then changed their position, sitting up against the headboard with Harry in his lap, Harry's hot back pressed to his chest and legs splayed wide on either side of Jacob's raised thighs.

Gripping his hips firmly but gently, careful not to bruise him by accident, Jacob lifted and dropped Harry on his lap until his breathes came in sharp pants sprinkled liberally with moans and whispered endearments that had no sane meaning. Harry's head lolled back against his shoulder and his hands covered Jacob's hands on his hips.

"'Love you," he whispered huskily, sounding on the edge of sleep. Jacob jerked him down particularly hard and felt his control slip away completely at the words. It was embarrassing that Harry's occasional declarations of love and adoration had such a powerful effect on him. His eyes stopped functioning a second after he lost his mind, and he knew he was holding Harry too tightly but also knew he couldn't loosen his hold if he tried.

Harry sighed and murmured something, going boneless on top of him. Jacob kissed his shoulder and held him as he slipped off into sleep. He eventually moved them down into a reclining position, spooning himself around Harry.

It was 10 in the morning by the time they woke again and crawled out of bed to shower and dress. Jacob tried to join Harry in the steamy bathroom, but the hotel's economical shower was not big enough to hold both of them and he was forced to content himself with the foggy outline of Harry's body through the shower glass. Harry didn't help matters by flirting shamelessly from the other side.

They would probably have made themselves late for lunch if Hermione hadn't showed up 30 minutes before they were supposed to leave, interrupting some heavy petting taking place on the carpeted floor. Pulling clothes back into place and smoothing hair, Harry answered the door expecting room service.

Hermione did not look impressed by his disheveled appearance. She barreled into their room and shoved a latte into his unresisting hand. There was one for Jacob too, and he drank it boiling hot with relish. Harry sniffed his before taking a hesitant sip. It was good with all the milk in it and he decided that coffee might not be as awful as he thought.

"How much has Harry told you about the Weasleys?" Hermione brusquely shoved Jacob onto the bed and then sat in the chair beside the night stand, steepling her fingers under her chin.

Jacob squirmed a little under the intensity of her brown-eyed stare. Hermione was a very intense person despite her pleasant personality and good manners. Her intelligence could be a little overwhelming sometimes when it was _right_ _there_ staring you in the eye. He stuttered out,"Um…they're Ginny's family. Her brother Ron is your husband and his sort-of best friend, one of the sons had a twin that's dead now, and the oldest one married some kind of succubus. Oh, and that Mrs. Weasley finds a way to suffocate you with her breasts no matter how tall you are."

Hermione snorted, obviously amused by that last anecdote, "I don't know how she does that either."

Hermione then filled him in on what topics to avoid, how much affection towards Harry was wise to show and how much was too much, and what to do when he was inevitably cornered by someone and given the 'I will break every bone in your body if you break Harry's heart' speech.

Feeling fortified but still nervous, he held Harry's hand as they made their way down to the public 'Floo'.

His first impression of the Weasleys was that it was loud. Several shrieking children were playing a game of tag in the living room, there was the distinct sound of banging around in the kitchen, and someone was laughing loudly.

His second impression was that it was bright. The windows were plentiful in the ramshackle room he'd landed in and the furnishings bright. Burnt orange, maroon, and Kelly green made up the primary colors. There were lots of lamps, books, house plants, and little whirring things he didn't know what to make of covering almost every surface. On the plush ottoman to his left was a large platter of cookies, mostly gone now. One of the blonde children skidded past them and snatched one as he watched. She smiled toothily at him, revealing a lack of front teeth.

He smiled back.

His third impression was of cotton-covered bosoms pressing firmly against his face. They'd come out of nowhere, and there was no polite way to escape them. They were warm and soft and smelled of chamomile and brown sugar. When he was allowed to breathe, a cheery redheaded matron grinned at him, pinching his cheeks.

"Oh, you must be Jacob! We've heard next to nothing about you, of course. I must say you are much handsomer than I'd thought! And just look at you; you're so tall!"

Looking helplessly over at Harry, he was mortified to find his lover grinning widely and making absolutely no effort to rescue him. He was abandoned a moment later, though, so it didn't matter. It was Harry's turn to be crushed in affection.

They were hustled into the kitchen to eat several minutes of rapid-fire questioning from Mrs. Weasley later, and as people congregated Jacob was stunned at just how red everyone's hair was. He'd never seen so many gingers in one place before.

Mr. Weasley shook his hand and gave him a crinkly-eyed smile. Hermione's husband nodded to him, looking very tall and handsome for a redhead. Three more of the brothers showed up, one of them with a nasty set of facial scars and the other with a devilish smile on his face that let Jacob know immediately that he was George, the prankster.

The children were the scarred brother's, and their blonde hair was explained by the breathtaking woman introduced as Fleur. She looked like a fallen angel even pregnant, blonde hair braided into a thick rope and swung over one shoulder to lie against a swollen breast.

If Jacob hadn't imprinted on Harry…

Conversation was pleasant, though interspersed with heavy interrogation of Jacob about his home and family and his 'wolf thing'. He handled their questions as best as he could, though the ecstatic delight on the part of Mr. Weasley's over the revelation that he owned and operated an auto shop was confusing.

Harry supported him by diving in and answering questions that concerned both of them, and kept a firm grip on his hand under the table for most of the meal, which was delicious. Mrs. Weasley was an excellent cook, and she looked fit to faint with pleasure when Jacob helped himself to his eighth helping.

They spent most of the afternoon there. They played hide and seek with the children in the Weasley's vast back yard, de-gnomed the garden so Jacob could see what it was like, and even swam in the pond a little (a fair amount of wandering hands occurred beneath the surface of the water).

Finally, as the sun began to set and Bill, his gorgeous wife, and their many children took their leave, they made their way back to their hotel. But not before having a basket of leftovers shoved into their hands by Mrs. Weasley and promises extracted to have Sunday brunch with them on the first Sunday of every month from then on. And to come by for dinner the next night before they left, of course.

No mention of Ginny had been made, though the passing sadness behind Ron's eyes gave away their grief.

Lying in bed, snacking on the cold cuts and biscuits Mrs. Weasley packed them, Harry asked Jacob if he would be alright with visiting the site of Godric's Hollow, the place where he'd been born and orphaned all those years ago and where his parents were buried.

Jacob said that he would be honored to see their resting place, and rubbed Harry's back until the tension went away.

~000~

End chapter 25

Sorry its shorter, but I am tired.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: I don't know if anyone else reads NYLON magazine, but they had a little article about Evanna Lynch and what she's been up to in the Oct. Issue. …Just saying.

CHAPTER 26

His heart felt funny, walking through the wreckage that was Godric's Hollow. He hadn't come here since the days of heartbreak and mania following the war. Now, with Jacob supporting him with an arm around his shoulders, Harry thought that he could handle this.

The house was nearly invisible, a brick corner of the foundations all that was left to show that the little white flowers swirling gently in the wind and creeping ivy laying over them like a blanket used to be a building. Harry sat on the bricks, looking around at the rolling hills without seeing them.

There was the rich smell of moss, lichen, and earth here, and he breathed it in deeply. The smell always reminded him of death, grave yards, and his parents, though the ghost memories of his infancy told him that his father used to smell like gunpowder and shaving cream, and that his mother always smelled of her namesake.

Jacob stood somewhat awkwardly to the side, watching Harry. He'd never seen him like this before. Sometimes Harry would drift off into the well of the past when waiting for water to boil or when he saw something that reminded him of it, but he could always tell that it was only a temporary journey. Right now, though, he could easily imagine Harry's mind drifting away forever.

He came to stand behind him and, after a moment of hesitation, slowly rested his chin on top of Harry's head, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Harry reached up and clutched at his elbow-arms, white fingers digging sharply into the skin. Jacob didn't notice.

They stood that way until the three cups of coffee he'd had with breakfast caught up with him and Jacob had to slither off into the bushes to relieve himself.

When he came back, his worst nightmare had occurred. Harry was gone.

Panic streaked yellow through his brain, and he spun in a panicked circle, nostrils flared for any hint of Harry's scent. It was still there, collected on the brick outcropping, joined now by traces of chloroform. He looked around for footprints, and saw just two extra anomalies. Someone had appeared out of nowhere behind where Harry had been sitting, grabbed him, and then vanished into thin air.

He shoved his fist into his mouth, fighting back hysterics. He had no idea how to get away from here. Harry had teleported them (he couldn't pronounce the correct term for it) outside the 'wards' of Godric's Hollow. He had no idea where the nearest human being was.

~000~

Opium was the first thing Harry became aware of when the weak beams of consciousness lit his eyes.

He blinked blearily, looking up at a blue-tiled ceiling. He was lying on something soft and a little scratchy. Scratching it with his fingernails, he identified it as brocade. Something jerked for his attention in the back of his mind, and he let it come to the front of his thoughts. Luna owned a brocade couch. Luna did hookah.

He turned his head and found wide grey eyes an inch from his own. He was too disoriented to jump back. The butter-soft hand that swept his hair back from his forehead to lay a cool cloth across it was familiar and made him feel warm and like he was back at Hogwarts again having one of their many heart-to-hearts in the library

"How are you feeling, Harry? I've never kidnapped someone before, and I think I may have used too much of the thing that makes you sleep."

"I feel okay…" he murmured, reaching out to touch her face. She smiled dreamily at him, looking higher than a kite as per usual.

"I missed you at the Weasleys. I meant to visit, but I got distracted."

The fog vanished from his mind rather suddenly when the full situation became clear to him, and he realized what Jacob must be thinking and doing right now. He sat up like a shot and grabbed her by the shoulders, giving them a little shake. The silver bells woven into her hair jingled.

"Luna! Shit, what did you do to Jacob? Is he here? How long have I been out?"

Her forehead creased, "Who's Jacob?"

"Fuck!" He sat up straight and apparatated to Godric's Hollow without a second thought. He landed roughly in the branches of a yellow willow tree and had to scramble down. He looked around for Jacob, frowning and worried.

An exhausting and very sweaty half hour of running all around the area of Godric's Hollow and surroundings valleys left him with one conclusion. Jacob was nowhere to found.

He sat down on a mossy log to strategize, feeling sick with worry.

~000~

Jacob didn't know where he was. There were trees everywhere, and his wolf body was not helping him keep calm because it always seemed to amplify everything he was feeling. He'd changed and just run and run, trying to find Harry. There was a faint gold glint in the back of some part of his mind he'd never seen before, and he knew that it was somehow connected to Harry.

And then it became brighter than before, but was behind him instead of in front of him. He turned and went back the way he'd come, not knowing how long he ran before he burst out onto a plateau of one of the many hills ringing Godric's Hollow. He almost fainted with relief when he saw Harry pacing the perimeter of the cliff's edge, obviously looking for a way down.

He changed back, just now realizing that he'd left his clothes in tatters wherever it was that his body burst into wolf.

Harry, sensing someone, whirled around with his wand out. Behind him the sun had begun to set, darkness falling over a day spent terrified that he'd never see Harry give him that big sloppy grin first thing in the morning just before he would beg him to carry him to the shower so he wouldn't have to step on the cold floor. He loved that smile so much, but then again he loved every smile Harry gave him.

Seeing who it was, he lowered his wand and sprinted over to bury Jacob's face in his neck, kissing his cheek and jaw and everything else he could reach.

"Oh, _thank god_!"

Jacob couldn't speak; his heart in his throat.

They ended up at Luna's house after some serious clinging and even a little of crying like girls. Luna served them tumblers of brandy with a tray of sugar cubes, not showing any remorse for the tragedy she'd almost created or even seeming to realize that her actions may have been inadvisable. Jacob couldn't be angry at her, though. Trying to be angry with Luna Lovegood was like trying to be angry at a blue sky with perfect little fluffy clouds floating across it; that or a velvety-eared rabbit. You just couldn't do it.

Luna was…some kind of hippie, crossed somewhere with a fairy. That was his opinion and he was sticking to it, though she was the most intelligent, sensitive hippie he'd ever met. She wore a skirt that was clearly a man's kilt and a fuzzy mohair sweater the exact color of orange sorbet. Her bangles and monkey-shaped earrings jangled every time she moved her head or hands, and little bells woven into her hair tinkled pleasantly. Her voice was like a blue fog personified.

She was the first of Harry's friends to accept him at face value, treating him as an old friend instead of an interloper or curiosity.

He drank his brandy obediently and accepted the refills she gave him without thought. That is, he thought nothing of it until he got up to relieve himself and his head swam dangerously. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Harry was in a similar state, smiling up at him from his super-slouched position on the sofa.

Luna was folding sheets of a normal newspaper into origami swans and stars. Through the undrawn drapes, the moon shone brightly down, blending with the yellow light of the lamps.

Her bathroom apparently doubled as a storage area, because there was a collection of pine cones of all shapes and sizes in an over-turned straw hat, boxes of every shape and color, and a stuffed bird of a species he didn't recognize. He nearly leapt out of his skin when he saw that the jar resting innocently on the sink counter contained a humanoid brain.

He sat down beside Harry on the sofa and popped a sugar cube into his mouth. Harry sluggishly propelled his body over to sprawl on top of him, breath moist and laced with alcohol against his lips. Luna's string of chatter continued unbroken in the background as Harry cupped his chin and availed himself of everything Jacob was willing to give, going so far as to steal the dissolving remnants of his sugar cube straight from his lips.

Rather suddenly Luna announced, "Shouldn't you two be getting off to bed now?"

This was such a sharp turn from her previous ramblings about different colors of dogwood that Harry actually stopped kissing Jacob to mumble,

"'M too drunk to go t' the hotel…" the last word slurred off into an indistinct humming sound.

"Oh don't be silly. You're sleeping here tonight. Here-" she waved her wand and their sofa stretched out into a bed. A sweep of her wand over their empty tumblers turned them into soft pillows, complete with rose-patterned covers.

Harry was already half asleep when she padded over and kissed his forehead. Jacob was surprised when she did the same to him, but it felt natural for her to do so.

He was suddenly filled with the childish desire to make tents out of sheets and hide inside of them. Plus it would give them privacy come tomorrow morning, should one of them forget where they were. Harry was too sleepy to help, so he built the tent around him. Books were taken from their random piles on the floor and used to weight down corners, and ends of the sheets were tucked or tied to the many lamps decorating the room.

He turned them off one by one and then crawled carefully into the little palace he'd made. Harry had rolled onto his back, eyes closed and lips parting with every exhale.

Wrapping himself around him, he laid a kiss on his unresisting mouth and whispered, "G'night sweetheart."

The pillows were impossibly soft, Harry warm and pliable in his arms, and very soft music, a lullaby almost, was playing somewhere in Luna's charming house. He was asleep in minutes.

Neither of them remembered that they were supposed to visit the Weasleys for dinner that night, and would no doubt receive a sound scolding later for standing Molly up.

~000~

End chapter 26


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: If you haven't checked it out yet, I am doing a drabble-a-day challenge for the month of October titled 'Stories Beginning in 'A''. It's going to be a melting pot of a lot of different ideas I've had for a while and some rare pairings too. Go read it, and if you love me you'll review. Whoever gets the most reviews for their drabbles come the end of the month wins.

CHAPTER 27

"So, how does it feel to be divorced?"

Harry snorted his orange juice, slapping Jacob on the arm repeatedly for asking something so ridiculous first thing in the morning. When he recovered, he said, "It feels great. It's like this heavy feeling I didn't know I had is gone now."

Jacob grinned. Harry rubbed his foot suggestively against his beneath the table, prompting him to get to his feet. He knew by now that if he stayed much longer he would end up staying a lot longer. Harry could be wily when he wanted something. He crammed another muffin in his mouth before pulling on his shirt and heading for the door. Harry followed, mug of tea smuggled from England in hand. He stepped out onto the porch and stood on his toes to kiss him goodbye.

They had a comfortable routine now. Jacob would head over to Harry's house every night of the week except Monday, when he held a meeting with his Pack to work out that week's patrols and talk with them about how things were going in their lives. It helped him stay connected to them as people and as wolves, and to maintain his image as Alpha on their subconscious. It wasn't a good idea to let that image fade, or dissention in the ranks would occur. They'd already been through one Pack-splinter. No one wanted that to happen again.

Though almost all of Jacob's clothes had ended up on one side of Harry's wardrobe and he spent all of his free time there, they had never brought up the subject of merging their households. It wasn't really a possibility until Billy passed on or moved into assisted living, something that Jacob refused to even discuss the possibility of. Jacob argued that he didn't mind the bother of commuting to Harry's every night and back for work during the day.

Harry still wished that things were different sometimes. He tried not to, though, because that was the last thing he wanted running through his mind when he would visit with Billy. He didn't want to think ill of Jacob's father, who really was a lovely man with a fantastic sense of humor.

Summer was definitely upon them now, and the garden was blossoming in earnest. Perhaps too much so, because he frequently felt over-whelmed by how much he had to do. Neville's pointers had been really helpful, and Harry had begged him until he promised to come over in the autumn during the primary harvest time and help him gather the massive amount of plants that had taken so well to the climate.

He didn't know what he was doing right, but the first roses to bloom had blossoms the size of his head.

He had a nasty suspicion that his reduced use of magic had contributed directly to the abnormal plant growth. Sort of like how bad blood will out, magic always found some opening to spread itself around.

When he wasn't watering and weeding and cooking like a haus frau and the sun cooperated, he would set up a cheap plastic paddle pool he'd bought from an old lady having a garage sale. There was a spot beneath the overhang of a crab apple tree where he could get just enough shade to be comfortable while still enjoying the sparse sunlight. He read a lot of books that way. Hermione would be proud.

When it was too muggy for him to feel up to even the effort of setting up the pool, there was a limpid lyrical river running through "his" woods under a pair of ancient arched bridges made of crumbling stone and the remnants of rotted wood. It was nice to go swimming there in the buff.

It was during one of these excursions that he had his first run-in with real danger since his self-imposed isolation in America.

He had been hovering on the edge of sleep, slouched against the shady bank of the cool river, full from a picnic lunch and a little tipsy (who drinks un-spiked lemonade anyway?), when a shadow fell across him. Lazily opening one eye, he found a man standing over him.

"Can I help you?"

Instead of a normal, polite response, the person purred, "It's so quiet here, under this yellow tree."

Harry looked around and saw that he was, indeed, beneath a dying gingko tree with yellow leaves still clinging to its branches. Feeling more alert now that he was engaging in conversation, after a fashion, his danger instincts began to kick in. The man was young and pale. He could see that his nails were brittle and slightly curved over his fingertips like the claws of a cat.

He couldn't see his eyes from this angle, but he'd bet money they were red.

He'd spent enough time listening to Sylvie ramble on to know a "cheap" Vampire, as she called them, when he saw one. This was the kind that was so diluted that all that transferred was amplified strength and blood lust. Afore-mentioned characteristics often led to mental decay within the first week of turning, not that most of the children of this breed lived that long. They were known to be self-destructive or overstep their new boundaries out of curiosity.

He wondered if he could reach his wand, a mere three feet away, without causing suspicions.

"Indeed it is. What brings you out this fine day?" Fuck, he should've known better than to leave the protection of the yew hedges during a cloudy day.

"I was hungry. There was no food fit for me in the last town…I am a lonely traveler. Might I sit with you?"

The way his eyes raked over his admittedly-naked body made Harry uncomfortable. He plastered on a grin and said, "Sure! Sit yourself down, stranger."

He sat close enough for his cold breath to waft over Harry's cheek. He was panting, practically salivating. Unfortunately he'd sat between Harry and his wand. Harry was grateful that he was in the 'play with his food' mood and not the 'pounce on it and suck it dry' mood. Thank heaven for small mercies.

It was hard to strategize with only an inch of water providing any propriety and a Vampire practically in your lap, but Harry had worked under harsher conditions. He remembered the silver ring he'd taken off and tucked into the pocket of his shirt so he wouldn't lose it.

"Do you smoke?"

The Vampire shook his head.

"Do you mind if I do?"

"Not at all…if it'll make you more _comfortable_…"

He barely held back an instinctual shudder. Contorting his back, he reached over for the cotton shirt he'd stolen from Jacob's side of the closet. He didn't know why he had his own shirts; he never wore them anymore. Everything Jacob wore seemed to have been washed to that soft state of utter perfection. It helped that they smelled like him too.

Just as he slipped on the ring, planning to press it into the Vampire's neck or eyeball, a cold hand slithered into his crotch. He squeaked and tried to pull away, but found himself caged in four limbs seemingly made of iron. He slammed his hips down on his assailant's crotch, going for some serious damage, but judging from his lack of reaction, his nervous system wasn't working that way anymore. Teeth grazed his neck, not quite breaking the skin, but sending a nasty trail of goose bumps down his spine. His mind flashed through a horrifying scenario of losing this fight and what this would do to Jacob, what this would do to _him. _

He couldn't let that happen.

He fought like a mad man, clawing and shouting at the top of his lungs, and then he fought prison style until he saw an opening and used the ring to burn the Vampire's palm. He screeched like a hyena and tried to get away. A flailing arm hit Harry square in the neck, and he choked from the pain. He managed to twist around and close his hands around the Vampire's neck and squeeze, pressing the ring into his flesh. The smell of burning was acrid and the smoke stung his eyes, but he was already glistening there from the pain in his neck.

Finally those monstrous red eyes rolled back in their sockets and, with a loud noise like a thunderclap, his body burst into ash. Harry, blindsided by this unexpected development, got it in his mouth, nose, and eyes.

He threw up onto the grass.

He then jumped a mile in the air when Jacob came crashing through the shrubbery to his left and tackled him into the river.

When they surfaced, Jacob was frantically running his hands over him, looking for injuries. His fingertips brushed his neck and Harry choked, eyes filling with water. Jacob's eyes were wider than Harry had ever seen them. He looked terrified.

"What…what happened?"

Harry blinked, "How did you get here so fast?"

Jacob waved a hand, "I was about a mile away when I got this sick feeling; I knew you were in trouble somehow, so I followed my gut and ran in the direction I thought you were."

"Oh."

"So what happened? Who hurt your neck? It's turning purple."

Harry gestured weakly to the pile of ashes with one hand, wiping some of it off his cheek with the other, "Some Vampire ambushed me when I was having a post-lunch nap. I killed him with a piece of silver, but it was a close call for a while. He almost bit me."

Jacob, heedless of the Vampire guts he was putting himself in contact with, drew Harry close again. Harry's neck really hurt now, but he didn't say anything. Jacob needed this, this reassurance that Harry was alright. And if crushing his nose against his pectoral was going to accomplish that, he could live with the discomfort.

The trip to the hospital was uneventful, but having to think quickly on his feet and lie his way through the paperwork after his earlier ordeal was exhausting emotionally and mentally. Why did this have to be so complicated? Couldn't they just look at his neck, tell him what was wrong and how to fix it, and then take his money?

It took a nurse two minutes to give him bruise cream, a prescription for pain killers, and a neck brace. He had waited four hours…for _this._

Jacob had had to go back to work immediately after dropping Harry off at the hospital or risk losing his job, so Harry had to stay in the fortress of evil, wearing a neck brace the embarrassing color of puce, until Jacob could pick him up.

He amused himself people watching, reading the newspaper, and making conversation with harried-looking pregnant women. He couldn't imagine being in their situation. There was not one occurrence of him spotting a pregnant woman when he was not thankful he was born a man.

He liked kids. He just didn't want to carry them in his belly for most of a year.

The next week was frustrating to the extreme. Jacob absolutely refused to anything remotely sexual with him until he healed. Harry tried to tell him that it wouldn't kill him as long as Jacob was gentle, but the wolf wouldn't hear a word of it and insisted on babying him instead.

Not that there was anything wrong with being pampered. Harry just would have preferred it if the sometimes unintentionally, ahem, erotic pampering had ended in sex.

His patience snapped on the eighth day. Jacob came home to find Harry not waiting for him by the door as usual. He frowned and stretched out that funny little part of him that could always sense when Harry was in trouble.

He was upstairs.

Pulling off everything but the bare essentials, he padded up the stairs and down the hall to the master bathroom. It had a massive claw-footed tub that dominated the room, and blue-tiled walls that misted with steam when you turned the water temperature hot enough.

Steam billowed out when he pulled open the door a crack. He stood still; eyes closed, and just inhaled Harry's smell for several moments. They'd been together for months and months now, but he never got too used to Harry that he couldn't appreciate things like this.

He slipped inside and quietly stripped off the scanty remains of his clothing before stepping into the tub behind Harry. Harry apparently knew he'd been waiting outside the tub for a while because he turned his head and gave him a slightly exasperated smile.

"Sorry I wasn't at the door today; I was just out in the garden and got carried away. I was all muddy by the time I finished."

"I'm not complaining," Jacob stepped closer and pushed his nose into Harry's wet neck, "I never complain when you're naked."

Harry snorted and turned to grab the soap from the shelf just behind Jacob. Ignoring his boyfriend, he went about washing himself, making no moves to be seductive. He didn't have to, and Harry knew that damn well by now.

He grabbed him as soon as he finished soaping up and kissed him with all the fervor he suppressed when away from him for hours at a time. Harry slowed his frenetic pace with broad caressing strokes down the length of his back, and Jacob could feel the flaring bonfire tamed into something closer to a quieter but more insistent heat. Slick hips met and a complex dance was begun. The goal was to make this happen without either of them falling down or seriously injuring themselves.

Through some careful footwork, convenient seizure of a bottle of conditioner, and a smooth move that resulted in Harry pressed against the least-slippery section of the wall with his legs on either side of Jacob's hips, he succeeded. Popping the cap on the conditioner, he took some and then replaced the bottle on its shelf. Harry raised an eyebrow at the almost military precision with which he was managing this, but stopped the sarcastic act when Jacob ground their hips together and dropped his head to mouth his chest.

He slipped a hand around and Harry obligingly spread his legs wider, holding onto his shoulders so that he could balance on his toes. Close proximity to Harry always seemed to affect him the same way, and his movements became urgent again. Harry laughed, sensing the familiar pattern.

"Oh poor Jacob; did you have a long hard day?"

Jacob groaned and told him to shut up. Gripping his waist with slippery hands, he canted up and entered Harry in one smooth stroke. Harry made a sound that echoed pleasantly in the bathroom's acoustics, biting softly into Jacob's shoulder. His hands clawed through Jacob's short hair, hot breath rapid and uneven against the shell of his ear.

Jacob pulled partially out and drove in once more, slamming Harry up onto his toes and causing his back to slide almost painfully against the tiles. His next thrust lifted Harry's feet completely off the floor.

Harry wrapped a leg around his hips but couldn't manage the second one. He let Jacob drive into him as hard as he liked, heedless of any pain he might feel later. All he cared about was that Jacob was hitting that one spot that made him crazy over and over with single-minded concentration. Wet lips found his, and Harry stopped biting his lip against his moans and let them be swallowed by Jacob instead.

Neither of them finished in a hurry, despite Jacob having a day's worth of pent-up frustration to expend. When they finally did, Harry knew he was going to have bruises on his back _and _trouble walking tomorrow.

He didn't care.

Jacob carried him out of the tub when he went limp in his arms and dried him with care. Harry sighed and snuffled against his cheek, and Jacob smiled privately. He liked it when Harry stopped being so damn independent and let him baby him like this.

He took care to dry the spaces between each of Harry's toes and then hefted him in his arms bridal-style for a nap in the bedroom until dinner. He was hungry now, but he could wait.

~000~

Harry received a massive surprise on July 30th when he came back from grocery shopping, arms full of paper bags, to find some of his closest friends congregated in his kitchen. There were streamers and balloons, and a sign that sparkled. A modest stack of gifts rested on the counter, nestled between the toaster and over-worked coffee machine.

"Happy Birthday Harry!" They shouted, sort of in unison. Jacob was grinning at him around a mouthful of what looked like Harry's cake.

George threw confetti at him, which exploded into pink puss, and grabbed him in a hug before anyone else could. Hermione mobbed him next, getting her hair all over him as usual. She was still apologizing for Ron not being able to make it until another two hours when Neville, who Harry had thought was in Africa doing god knows what with succulents, wrapped an arm around his shoulder and asked,

"How does the big 30 feel? Do you magically feel like a grown-up now or still just a kid in an adult body?"

Harry laughed and replied, "Both! Oh my god you guys! I had no idea you were going to do something like this until I hit my mid-life crisis."

Jacob snorted, "Please do not remind me about that. I'm not looking forward to competing with a younger woman for your attention."

Sidling over to him, Harry laid a big and perhaps too intimate kiss on his lips to much catcalling from George. That boy could catcall like a crowd of rowdy wedding guests. "Don't be like that; you'll always be my number one," Harry reassured him, wiping a bit of moisture from his lips with a finger.

Jacob shook his head, "Ah, ah, ah! You didn't say 'only one'. Who shall be number two, I ask?"

"Leah."

Jacob guffawed. Hermione handed Harry the knife, and he cut his birthday cake. It was chocolate with cherry filling between the two layers, and it was delicious. Everyone had more than they should have, and George revealed a box of champagne he'd snuck in.

Sylvie didn't show herself until the party was almost over and Harry had been filled in with _everything _going on with his friend's. Neville had already left, needing to get back so that he could water some rare plant on schedule and clip its night blossoms.

Hermione didn't react much to Sylvie, but Ron's Auror training made him wary of her. George shook her hand vigorously and asked if Harry and Jacob made too much noise at night. Harry hit him, and Sylvie said 'yes', much to his humiliation.

Sylvie was polite and offered to refresh the drinks of those too tipsy to do so themselves. She made conversation with George about his joke shop and volunteered to do some long-distance for him if he needed any help developing new products. He asked her if she thought it was a good idea to expand into clothing.

Harry tuned them all out, even Ron. He was 30 now. This wasn't where he'd thought he would be at age 30, but he couldn't complain. This was better; much better.

~000~

End chapter 27

Three more chapters and then this will be over. I'm cutting the umbilical cord.


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

Neville arrived to assist Harry bright and early on September 1st, bringing two trunks full of various cutting and preserving implements. Harry set him up in one of the many, many guest bedrooms (all of which he'd had sex in) and then helped him unpack and organize his many supplies in the adjoining room. It was Jacob's idea to connect the guest bedrooms in pairs, in case one of his friends ever brought their children.

By the time lunch break rolled around, Harry was seriously considering hiring an army of gardeners. Or house elves. The point was, harvesting the entire garden in a week was starting to look like an Olympic sport for which he had not had sufficient training.

"Neville, can we take the afternoon off? I don't know if I can lift a finger after this," Harry desperately tried not to sound like he was whining, but Neville's smirk told him he'd failed, and failed miserably.

"Harry, I only have a week off to help you, and I am _not _going out there and gathering your stuff by myself. Come on, we'll play some loud music and drink a lot of coffee. You'll handle it."

Neville was right, and the rhythm of the music, rap songs from the early 90s, made things a lot easier.

Jacob finished early that day and came out to help them. He snorted at Harry's exaggerated exhaustion and made him take a brief break. Once alone, he casually asked,

"So Neville, any girls on your radar?"

He didn't really know Harry's friends super well yet, and wanted to change that. Harry had made it very clear that he was there to stay, and that his friends were likely to visit, not that Jacob was complaining about either of those. Hermione was pretty easy to understand (workaholic, extreme intellectual, powerhouse feminist, all-around lovely girl), and her husband Ron had been Harry's best friend before they grew apart so he had to be a nice guy.

From what Harry had told him, Neville was a bit of a marshmallow as a kid but responded well to high-stress situations and turned out to be quite the lion in battle.

Neville blushed and nodded after a moment, "Yeah, one. But I don't know if I should tell her how I feel. She's not exactly someone my family would approve of. Not that they'd approve of anyone. They're all really old and super conservative."

"Why wouldn't they approve? I mean, if you don't mind my asking. I'm just curious."

"No, no, it's okay. I know what you're trying to do and I appreciate it. You and Harry look like you wouldn't know what to do without each other, and I can respect that," he dug out a stubborn root and then continued, "I don't know how much Harry told you about Hogwarts, but we had these things called Houses-"

Jacob nodded vigorously, "Yeah, he told me about them. Green, Blue, Red, and Yellow, right? I know they have fancy names, but I forgot them."

Neville smiled, "I don't blame you. Anyway, this girl was from the 'green' house, and she didn't really get along with us back then."

"If she's a mean person, why are you interested?"

Neville shrugged, "We were kids then, and in the middle of a war no one understood. I still don't get it. She's changed a lot, and she just…she gets me. I've dated a lot of girls since the war but none of them seemed to be… I don't know how to say this without sounding like a total jerk, but they just seemed shallow. Millicent isn't like that."

Jacob grinned, "Oh, so her name is Millicent."

"Damn it…look, don't tell Harry, okay? For all I know she has a boyfriend. I just fancy her is all."

Jacob mimed zipping his lips, "Your secret is safe with me."

~000~

Sylvie met Neville for the first time immediately following dinner, when darkness had fallen. He nearly had a heart attack but recovered nicely and politely held out his hand for her to shake.

She then flirted shamelessly with him for the rest of the evening; much to Harry's mixed horror and amusement.

He said good night at nine and headed upstairs with Jacob, leaving Neville to possibly be devoured alive by Sylvie. The last thing they heard before going out of earshot was Sylvie saying,

"Oh Neville, you make me feel like a school girl!"

Jacob didn't say a word about Millicent to Harry.

When they stepped out of the bathroom, tingling from both cleanliness and other things, Harry held out a goose-fleshed arm and exclaimed, "Oh, there's a nip in the air! Autumn must be coming early this year."

Jacob hummed agreement, utterly unaffected by the temperature drop. They crawled into bed, Harry too sore to ask for an encore. Jacob pulled Harry's head onto his shoulder and kissed his forehead. Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he let out a happy little sigh.

"I love how warm you are, except in summer. But that's only three months out of the year, so I think I can handle that."

Jacob smiled in the dark and stroked Harry's hair until his breaths evened out and he sagged against him.

~000~

Sylvie's incipient affection for Neville became more obvious with every evening that she would lure him away from his cuttings and onto the sofa with her for drinks. Neville seemed flustered but flattered by the attention, and their relationship took a sharp spike towards the personal when Sylvie's vast knowledge of plants past and present revealed itself.

The night before Neville was set to leave Jacob walked in on them necking on the sofa when he padded downstairs for a late-night snack. He never could fall asleep on an empty stomach.

He assured them that he wouldn't say a word to Harry and went to bed with a smirk on his face, resolutely not thinking about what they could have gotten up to on the sofas, not that he and Harry were innocent in that regard.

Jacob supposed that this Millicent would never know what she'd missed out on.

Sylvie was visibly distressed when Neville left, even with his promises to write and visit every weekend.

Harry did his best to comfort her, and told her stories about what Neville had been like as a child and teenager. This seemed to appease her, and when Neville stayed true to his word and maintained their long-distance relationship, her confidence in their strange little romance grew.

Harry asked her when the wedding was and got a slap for his trouble, though her smile was a tad more coy than usual when she sauntered back into her lair.

~000~

End chapter 28

Two more updates until completion. Sorry this is short, but I said everything that needed to be said about those two.


	29. Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

Over the months Jacob had introduced Harry to members of his Pack when he could, but Harry had never met all of them together at the same time. His Pack behaved differently when they were together versus when they were split into small groups, and he felt badly about Harry not getting to experience them like that yet.

Leah tracked him down at an old lady's house, where he was staining her furniture. He hissed at her to leave when she knocked on the porch support to catch his attention, looking around nervously in case Mrs. Trudy had noticed some strange woman on her porch.

"Leah, you can't be here right now! I'm working. This lady is really scared of strangers."

He made shooing motions at her like she was a stray cat. She crossed her arms and glared at him until he groaned and stopped.

"You're not going to leave, are you?"

"Nope. Not until you say yes."

"Say yes to what?" He re-dipped his brush and began to apply the stain in narrow, precise strokes. Normally he found this kind of work super relaxing, but Leah was making him tense and a little jittery. If he got fired, Harry would have to support him until he could find another job, and there wasn't a lot on the market right now. He definitely needed two jobs to support his dad now, and surviving on one wasn't an option. Part of it was how much food he needed to consume, and another was his dad's many medications. He knew Harry wouldn't object and might even enjoy giving him a hand for a while, but he didn't want to become dependent on Harry's money. It just violated some unspoken rule of their relationship, and he didn't like the thought of that.

"Having Thanksgiving with the Pack…and bringing Harry with you. We'd, uh, we'd love to include him."

Jacob paused and turned around to eyeball her. Leah had been the most comfortable with Harry out of the rest of his Pack, who treated Harry with strained politeness. He knew that his sexuality made them a little uncomfortable, but knowing that they cared enough about him to throw aside their own squeamishness was touching. He smiled.

"I'll have to ask Harry, but I'm pretty sure he'll say yes. I…" unable to express himself in words, he put down the brush and crossed the porch to embrace her. Leah froze and then patted him on the back. She'd never been particularly good with anything mushy since her break-up with Sam. She still expected to outlive all of them, so he thought that maybe fear of overwhelming grief was what was making her pull away emotionally like this.

"Thank you," he whispered, releasing her at last. Her face was suspiciously red and her eyes darted around, but she seemed pleased.

After a moment she seated herself on the porch steps and helped him by handing him his damp rag every time he got some of the stain on his arms. If it wasn't wiped off immediately, it would stain like a permanent marker. Not really permanent, but close enough.

"So we haven't hung out for a while," Leah spoke up after some time spent in silence. He grunted, and she continued, "I mean, I understand that you would probably spend every waking second inhaling Harry if you could; I just wish we could hang out like we used to, I miss your stupid face."

He laughed and pretended to swat her with his brush. When he'd settled into a proper rhythm again, he said, "I know and I'm sorry. It's just that I'm so busy; between the shop and this and taking care of my dad, it feels like I'm grasping for time to spend with Harry."

"Why does he live so far away again?" Leah took out some gum and popped a piece in her mouth, relaxing against the handrail to look up at the gray skies.

"The house really suits him, us. It just feels like home to both of us. The thought of Harry moving up here seems wrong somehow. Does that make any sense?"

She nodded, "No, it does. What does he do out there all day?"

"He works in this garden he planted. It's more like a miniature farm, really. There are fruit trees and berry bushes and all these vegetables. And then there's the really weird plants, which take up a majority of the garden," he wiped some sweat from his forehead and moved on from the chairs to the quaint end table, "And he cooks, and studies his books. For all I know he dedicates an hour of his time to running around screaming."

"Sounds like a life of leisure," Leah pointed out, popping her gum, "I'm jealous."

Jacob snorted, "Don't be. He's as tired as I am by the end of the day and makes two times as much money as I do."

"What? How?" Leah was sitting up straight now, clearly interested. He didn't blame her. The entire Pack was always ready to leap on any extra source of income. It meant that they could afford more food.

Jacob waved a hand vaguely, "He sells the plants. I think he said he makes potions out of them sometimes, or sells them in their raw form. He makes a killing."

"…wow."

"Yeah. So, hey, where are we holding Thanksgiving this year? There will be twice as many of us thanks to all the imprinting going on, so we'll need a lot of seats."

"Oh, I didn't think of that." Leah tapped her chin, thinking. "Damn it, we can't have it outside, can we? The humans will freeze."

Jacob hummed and then asked, "What about your place?"

"My mom says no. She's still pissed about the whole 'pumpkin pie on the ceiling fan' thing. What about Paul's? His dad just expanded their house."

Jacob chewed his lip, "I don't know…do you want me to ask him, or do you want to do it?"

Leah shrugged, "I can do it. I'll let you know where we'll be having it, and all I want from you is to show up. And bring some food."

"Like what?" he'd finished the furniture, and began packing up his supplies.

"I don't know, fancy bread, salads…something like that."

"Okay. I'll see you Monday night. It was good to talk again."

She smiled and walked him to his car, "Don't let that boyfriend of yours ever take you for granted."

"I won't."

He got in and drove off. It started to rain as he drove, fat droplets slapping against his windshield. He didn't notice, too busy having a silent panic attack about what would happen if his Pack really didn't get along with Harry and someone tried to lay hands on him.

~000~

Harry raised his eyebrows when he told him about Leah's invitation but didn't react other than to ask if there was particular 'fancy bread' that his Pack liked. Jacob shrugged,

"They'll eat anything."

"Then I'll make one of each," Harry smiled and then bent over the counter separating them to drop a brief kiss on Jacob's surprised mouth, "I want to make a really good impression, you know."

Harry obviously accomplished his goal come Thanksgiving Day, when they arrived at Paul's house as the second-to-last guests. No one minded them being late when Harry revealed that the massive basket he'd been balancing on his lap the whole car ride contained 18 different kinds of fancy bread, from apple to zucchini. He was welcomed with open arms and seated between Jacob and Billy at the table. It was a tight fit, and a number of the younger couples sat on the floor with their little siblings, but no one really seemed to mind. There were several lovers' spats and one fistfight between the toddlers over who got to play with a plush toy, but overall things went peacefully enough.

Harry made conversation with anyone that wanted it, and complimented everyone on their food. The compliments were genuine; there were some very talented cooks amongst Jacob's Pack. Despite how nervous he felt about meeting all of them at the same time, he was really starting to like them. They had a special energy to everything they did, and functioned as some sort of symbiotic family that shared everything.

Jacob gripped his hand under the table whenever someone got too nosy about their private life, but Harry was used to deflecting reporters, a far more persistent breed of nosy, and handled all of their personal questions with ease and grace. That is, he answered them in the absolute vaguest way possible. Judging by the puzzled frowns he kept getting, he was doing a fine job of confusing them.

They played cards after finished the main course, waiting for their stomachs to settle before dipping into dessert. Seth Clearwater, Leah's little brother, happily sighed that Thanksgiving was his favorite holiday of all time.

Harry was only able to handle a single piece of pie, much to the amusement of just about everyone else there. Once sugar and alcohol had been ingested, a peaceful lull descended over the group. The younger kids went outside to play football or tag in the mud, leaving the adults to try to ply Harry with alcohol in a useless attempt to make his answers less vague. Harry didn't give in, but he did very red when they were goaded into kissing for everyone to see.

Jacob put his arm around him then, knowing that their teasing was just their way of saying that they didn't mind Harry and might even like him.

~000~

A week later, Harry was in nearest the supermarket picking up some necessities.

He hummed along to the Frank Sinatra oldies they were playing on the radio and took his time browsing the shelves. It was Monday evening, so Jacob was out with his Pack and wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning. He picked over their flour and decided that this would be the last time he would buy it processed. It wouldn't be hard for him to set up some kind of arrangement with someone in England who had whole grain by the barrel.

And then he passed by a Vampire in the personal grooming aisle.

Harry was not bothered. He wasn't. It was none of his business, really. But…there was a Vampire in the hair accessories department! With a groan he laid down the box of cereal he was considering buying and sidled over to finger. She turned her head and he turned around quickly, pretending to be looking at a hair net.

When she was no longer looking in his direction, he slowly pivoted around and peeked at the Vampire from behind a pyramid of lotion samples. She was brunette, about average height, and wearing expensive civilian clothes. She appeared to be comparing prices on two hairbrushes.

Taking a deep breath, he wandered closer and began picking through the combs. He could feel her looking at him every few seconds, and heard the soft sound of saliva moving around her lips when she opened her mouth to say something to him but choose not to.

Finally he broke the silence and asked, "Have you bought combs here before? I don't know which one to get."

Her eyes were amber, not red. She was rather obviously startled by his question, and took a moment to reply, "Um, no. This is my first time shopping here. I, ah ha, I broke my hairbrush in half by accident and I need a new one."

"Oh; shame, that."

They were quiet, Bella fiddling with the hair ties. And then she asked, "Do you know Jacob Black?"

Harry frowned, putting two and two together. This must be Bella Cullen! "Yeah; how did you know?"

"Oh, uh…" her eyes shifted around nervously, "lucky guess."

He took and chance and said, "I smell like him, don't I?"

"You smell like you bathed in him," she blurted, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Harry smiled as reassuringly as he could, shoving down his feelings of jealousy and hostility towards her for the way she'd treated Jacob.

"I knew it. I'm Jacob's imprint, Harry. You must be Bella Cullen."

Her eyes were the size of saucers as she shook his offered hand. Her hands was ice cold, and Harry had to bite his lip to keep back a smile as Sylvie's scornful words involving 'trolls' and 'lesser beings' came to mind.

"Oh, wow, how did you know who I was?"

"Well, you're rather obviously a Vampire and you fit the description."

"What? What part of me is obvious?" she ran her hands nervously down the front of her body, smoothing her clothes.

"Oh, don't worry about other people being able to tell. I just know Vampires. You look a little odd, but that's it."

She nodded rapidly, darting eyes giving away her continued nerves. And then she shyly asked, "Why do you smell like lightning? I've never smelled someone who had that scent on them before. Are you an electrician or something?"

Harry frowned, "No; I think what you're smelling is my magic. Anyway, this was a lovely talk, but I need to finish up and get back before it gets too cold. Bye now!"

He made a quick exit and tried not to panic about dropping the 'm word' on a Muggle. He supposed that Fuseli got it wrong. Vampires weren't ugly at all, troll blood regardless.

~000~

After successfully seducing Jacob, he crawled on top of him and played with his hair while recounting his brief adventure with Bella. Jacob seemed surprised but otherwise unaffected by mentions of his previous love interest.

"I hope I didn't open any old wounds by telling you about this," Harry hinted, laying a kiss on Jacob's upper lip. Jacob shook his head, hands wandering down Harry's back.

"No, I got over her a long time ago. Right about the same time I saw you."

Harry snorted and kissed him properly, "Good to know. If you'd answered differently I probably would've tracked her down and killed her with my bare hands."

"Whoa, down tiger!"

~000~

End chapter 29

Next chapter is the last one, and that is my final decision. Please be adults about this. Thanks! Also, if you haven't read it yet, check out my 'Stories Beginning in A'. It's updated daily for the entire month of October.

Those of you who want to guess about Leah's romantic fate are welcome to.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: This is the last chapter. Thank you for all the support via reviews and private messages! I had a lot of fun writing this story, and I'm kind of sad it's over. All good things come to an end, though. If you have any final comments or complaints, feel free to make them now. It's too late for me to do anything about them, so this will work out perfectly.

CHAPTER 30

The white winter sky was bright, blinding, without the sun. Harry hadn't been able to sleep, so he got out of bed and went for a long walk around the property. He ended up in a little valley, filled with snow drifts and patches of treacherous ice. Deer tracks dotted the little waves and dips of snow, black against the purity of the landscape. Snow hung from the trees like heavy summer fruit.

Through the trees at the top of the slope he could see the sky was white, strengthening to pink on the horizon. Flat clouds floated like ships across the sea of sky. Black outlines of weeping willows swayed in the cold wind to his left.

He thought about things that he didn't normally think about anymore. It was easy to think about the here and now when he was so busy, but now seemed like a good time to think about the future, where all of this was headed. He was going to be with Jacob for as long as Jacob would have him; that was as good as saying forever, really.

They wouldn't have a marriage ceremony, he knew. It wouldn't feel right to either of them. They didn't need the validation of a minister or the government, nor to host some sort of ceremony to make their love for each other more 'real'. Kids…those were an extremely distant possibility. Not impossible, but certainly not likely. Neither of them were truly the father type. Harry wouldn't know how to give a child a normal upbringing, and Jacob was too young now and had so much to figure out still.

Jacob still wanted to get an education when he could, and Harry was willing to support him through that. He knew it was important to Jacob that he could always have something that would help him feel like an independent man who could take care of himself, a man who achieved things. He never wanted to compromise Jacob's sense of confidence. That would destroy so much of the young man he'd come to love.

It was funny, really. He'd never been with someone like Jacob. He'd never dated someone younger, someone who hadn't been through the war like the rest of his normal circle. It was really different, but Jacob made him feel good. Jacob made him feel like he didn't have to be defined by his past all the time, no matter how historically groundbreaking it was. He was free to be himself.

And…well, he liked to think that he made Jacob feel like he was free to be himself as well. Jacob's crowd here was loud and bold, but Jacob had a quiet spirit and didn't like a lot of the things his peers and Pack did. Jacob was older than his years, and that was why they suited each other so well. Their ages met in the middle. Harry still felt strange when he realized he was 30. He was no longer young, but in his prime.

He slowly walked back to the house as the sun glittered off the icicles dangling from the highest gables almost to the floor and as thick as tree trunks.

Slipping back into bed, he tried not to wake Jacob. Jacob grumbled when Harry's icy toes brushed his calf, and rolled over, his broad brown back to Harry. Harry smiled fondly and rubbed his hands together to warm them before he ran his fingertip down the beautiful crease in Jacob's spine. He splayed his hand, fingers fitting neatly between his ribs.

Sometimes he felt like Jacob was out of his league. Harry would only ever be average in the looks department, but Jacob was gorgeous. He was tall and strong and healthy, with a personality as beautiful as his broad friendly face. Harry pressed his cold nose to Jacob's shoulder blade and silently chuckled when Jacob rolled back over and flung a heavy arm over his chest and shoved his face into the crook of Harry's shoulder. He was a big cuddly bear in bed when half-asleep, and Harry liked it when he would roll around like this, all warm and lovely.

He drifted off to sleep at last, chest rising gently beneath Jacob's thick arm.

~000~

They celebrated Christmas without giving gifts to each other. It felt strange and uncomfortable to think of buying each other anything, so they didn't.

They ate a late brunch at Billy's house, and Harry gave him a new set of fishing rods that he'd picked up in a specialty store in La Push. They'd been very expensive, but some research had showed that that was because they were top-of-the-line in quality and customer satisfaction. From the wide-eyed look of glee on Billy's face, he could tell that his gift was appreciated. Jacob pretended that he hadn't bought him anything, that his 'slave labor' was enough of a present; but then he pulled out a wrapped DVD collection of Billy's favorite baseball team's greatest hits.

It was their cue to leave half-way through the afternoon, when Billy said he was going over to the Swan's to keep Charlie company. Harry winced in sympathy at the thought of Charlie spending Christmas alone without wife or daughter. Maybe Sylvie could help him set Charlie up with someone. He didn't know the man, but he'd had enough lonely Christmases to know that no one should have to be alone for the holidays.

Back at home, they were greeted by Sylvie, who demanded to know where her presents were. She hadn't bothered to put on anything over her underwear, and Harry could see Jacob modestly covering his eyes behind him.

Harry groaned, "Ah, shit, I forgot to get you anything!"

"What!"

He burst out laughing, and she saw that he'd been kidding. With a roar of rage, she chased him as he made a break for the front door. Jacob watched from the porch as Harry sprinted along the edge of the property, wading through snow up to shins. Sylvie was light enough and fast enough to skim the top of the drifts, and seemed to float as she caught up to him. Harry squawked when she collided with his back and knocked him face-first into the prickly bushes, screaming obscenities and threats of eviction if her present was not dug out of hiding _immediately._

Harry's yells for assistance were muffled by the snow, but Jacob heard them and came out. He pried Sylvie off of Harry with ease, something that seemed to briefly flabbergast her, and dug his boyfriend out of the snowdrift he was stuck in. Harry shivered and threw his arms around Jacob's waist, burying his snowy head in his chest for warmth.

Jacob began wading through the snow and called over his shoulder, "You coming, landlady?"

She danced lightly on top of the snow past him and through the door, not bothering to answer. When he stepped inside, she was daintily picking individual clumps of snow out of her white hair. Jacob wondered how she could see them when they were the same color.

Instead of asking, he said, "Aren't you going to put some clothes on?"

"No; it's been my tradition since I built this house with my two hands to walk around naked on holidays. But since you boys are here now, I put on some of the skimpy scraps that women of this era consider 'under garments'. You should be grateful. I could be wandering around with, as Hermione calls it, my muff out."

Jacob gagged a little at the thought, and she grinned wolfishly.

Harry wriggled in his arms impatiently and Jacob put him down with reluctance. He took any chance to hold Harry he could. Without speaking a word to either of them, Harry disappeared upstairs. There was a loud crash several minutes later, followed by a shout of,

"I'm alright!"

Jacob sighed. Harry came back down in a bit, hands behind his back. Sylvie practically salivated, vibrating in place. It was obvious that she was ready to pounce on him and snatch what she considered hers. Grinning all the while, he revealed a jewelry box. She took it and ran her hand over the blue velvet of the box before opening it. Inside was a heavy white gold necklace set with hundreds of small but flawlessly cut rubies. She let out a gasp and threw her arms around Harry's neck.

"Oh, how did you know I loved rubies?"

Harry smirked, "Lucky guess."

She gave him a long look, "You've been reading my diary when I'm asleep, haven't you?"

"Guilty!"

"Damn you, brat!"

He sprinted for the back doors, shouting over his shoulder, "That's what you get for spying on me in the shower!"

Jacob gave up any hope of a peaceful Christmas evening. There was still hope for crazy late-night sex, but Harry was going to be tired out for several hours, he could tell. He made himself comfortable on the couch and pulled out the paper, flipping to the comics section first. After that he worked quietly on the crossword in between reading articles that caught his eye, glancing up occasionally to catch a glimpse of Harry and Sylvie's rough snow fight outside.

~000~

Two days passed.

The white winter sky was bright, blinding, without the sun. And Harry was bored. He'd finished his preserving of the magical milk pods (which were just like normal ones, except that they sparkled and made your skin feel like butter when distilled in the correct potion), finished stringing up garlic for later medicinal brewing, and actually cleaned his 'study'. Hell, he'd even mopped all the floors and beaten out the attic carpets.

And now he'd run out of projects. He couldn't even go creeping through Sylvie's lair to wake her up in the middle of the day and bother her. She'd had much, much too much to drink last night and warned him that she was sleeping off a massive hangover and that she could not be held accountable for her actions should he startle her.

He swung his legs over the arm of his favorite blue sofa and let out a long sigh. He was out of books too. Hell, he couldn't even doodle. All his paper was designated for different projects, all of which he had done as much as he could with for the time being. After several minutes of listless leg swinging, he went into the kitchen and dug the phone out of its cabinet. He almost never used it, and it took him several tries to get it to work properly.

Jacob sounded elated to hear Harry's voice when he practically sang out, "Hello my darling!"

Harry stifled a giggle.

"Hey Jake…are you at work?"

"Yeah, I'm literally watching paint dry right now. God, why does everyone want their stuff painted? Furniture, houses, rooms, sheds…it's driving me crazy."

Harry made a sympathetic noise, "Aw, my poor baby. You're a wizard with a paint brush, though; very professional."

"Thanks."

Harry could practically see him blushing. He affected a casual tone, leaning one hip against the counter and looking over his nails. They were getting scruffy and needed a manicure bad, "Well, I'm sorry you're busy. I was going to entice you into finishing up super-man fast so you can get off early and come home in time to have sex on the sofa in the middle of the afternoon."

Jacob inhaled sharply, "I'll be there in two hours at the earliest. Don't start the party without me, please?"

Harry laughed, "Honey, it isn't a party without you." He kissed the receiver loud enough for Jacob to hear the 'smack' sound and hung up. Grinning and a little red-faced, he went upstairs to groom the hell out of himself. He was going to wash his hair with the peppermint shampoo Jacob liked so much, clean all of his nails and buff them to perfection, and scrape off the dead skin his body accumulated from so much outdoor labor.

Jacob was true to his word and arrived two hours later on the dot. He walked through the house until he found Harry lounged lazily on the back parlor sofa, peeling an orange. Harry grinned when he saw him and offered him a segment of orange. He knelt on the thick carpet by the sofa and accepted it, chewing slowly and taking in Harry. He smelled freshly-bathed and all-around delicious. His skin fairly glowed, and he had a suspicion that he was naked under the quilt gathered around his hips and legs. Bending at the shoulder, he lowered his head and nuzzled the fabric aside until he could kiss one of Harry's perfect little hipbones. Harry let out a breathy laugh and laid his cool palm against the back of his neck.

Jacob's eyelashes fluttered at the feel of Harry's cool skin between his lips and against his neck. Harry's body temperature often sank below normal, lending his skin a delicious chill that complimented Jacob's feverish flush nicely.

"I wish neither of us had to work," he murmured, "I wish that we could do nothing but this all day." 

Harry sighed, leaning back on the sofa so that Jacob could lay his head comfortably against his belly.

"Me too, but then we'd get bored of each other eventually. I don't want to get bored of you, Jake. If work helps us miss each other more at the end of the day, I can accept that." Harry reached down and began to stroke his hair in flicking teasing strokes, walking his fingers near Jacob's ears and tugging them playfully.

Jacob lifted his head from Harry's belly. He knelt before him, clasping Harry's legs. He rolled his head, trying to catch Harry's stroking fingers in his mouth. Giving up on that, he wormed his hands between Harry and the couch and squeezed his nates and thighs, impatience showing when Harry just laughed and tried to squirm away from his ticklish maneuvers.

"You're a savage," Harry snorted between giggles. Jacob scowled.

"I am not!"

Harry wriggled out of his reach, scooting to the left and making room for Jacob. He crawled onto the sofa, not caring if his animal side was showing, and grabbed Harry by the hips. Harry laughed against when his fingers tickled him. Jacob pulled him by his hips down the length of the couch and into his waiting arms. Harry snuggled close, helping him out of his trousers and pointing out his mismatched socks with disapproval.

Jacob distracted him with a fond kiss to his eyebrow, flinging the last of his clothing clear across the room. Harry rearranged himself in his arms and dug his hand between the couch cushions, looking for something. Jacob watched in confusion until Harry shoved a condom into his hands and produced a small bottle of lubricant from its hiding place.

Jacob's mouth fell open, "Since when do we keep sex supplies here?"

Harry gave him a funny look, reaching a hand down between his legs, "What do you mean? This stuff has been here since we rearranged all the furniture. Didn't I tell you? There's stuff like this all over the house. You know, just in case."

Jacob just smirked and shook his head. Sheathed in rubber, he reached down to assist Harry. Harry let out a breathy moan and began to move his hips to compliment every twitch and stroke of his fingers. Jacob propped himself over him with a hand braced on the back of the couch, watching Harry work himself into a frenzy of desire.

He tipped his head to kiss him, and Harry arched up into his mouth, a hand twisting into his hair and holding him close. Jacob slowly dragged his fingers against Harry's prostrate one final time before slipping them out as carefully as he could Harry clenched around him, reluctant to have him go.

Jacob tried to figure out the best way to do this, and ended up rolling Harry onto his side, slipping behind him. Harry pulled one knee up to his chest in anticipation, and Jacob curved his hand on his flank. He pushed inside, head flopping onto Harry's shoulder. Even after all these months, the thrill of penetration hadn't dulled.

He bit the inside of his mouth, hard, to stave off the wave of uncontrolled passion and held still for a few seconds. Harry huffed out a breath and rolled his hips in a figure eight that made stars appear behind his tightly-closed eyes.

"Oh…!"

Harry was smiling, he knew, and repeated the same move several times in succession. Jacob strengthened his grip on his thigh and moved counter to Harry's rolls, scraping his blunt head against Harry's prostate.

Harry whispered several curses, biting his wrist.

He leaned down and spoke directly into his ear as he told Harry exactly what he did to his self-control and concentration. He told him what he'd thought about doing to him while getting hit on by housewives of all ages, and Harry snorted, curving his back away from Jacob's chest in order to shove his arse closer.

And then something went wrong and they fell off the couch. Harry's head hit the floor with a 'crack!' and Jacob yelled, "Fuck!"

Harry whimpered a little, clutching his head. Half an hour with a bag of frozen peas against his head later, Harry's hand crept into his lap and he asked if he wanted to continue what they'd been doing before.

Jacob thought about it, and then grabbed the quilt from its crumpled heap and spread it out on the carpet. He then picked up Harry and laid him down in the middle of the quilt. Harry watched him, one hand holding his ice pack in place and the other reaching for him. Jacob complied and crawled forward, a finger nudging between his legs to see if the lubrication was still sufficient. It wasn't, and he had to repeat the previous process. Harry didn't make a single sound of complaint, instead choosing to shimmy his entire torso in time with his probing fingers.

Content that he wouldn't split Harry in half like a melon anymore, he flipped one of Harry's legs over his shoulder and pushed inside an inch at a time. Harry watched him with half-lidded eyes and parted lips, smiling.

Bending Harry nearly in half, he kissed his ear and tried to figure out a rhythm that wouldn't send Harry's head banging like a bobble-head. Harry hissed and strained up against him, head tilting back and dislodging the ice pack. Jacob gave up hope then and braced a hand on one side of Harry's head and one on his hip, pounding as hard as he dared. Harry shouted then, and Jacob was sure Sylvie would hear them.

He didn't care anymore when Harry grabbed hold of his backside and used his grip to push Jacob faster and deeper, moans and gasps getting tangled together on his tongue.

When Harry's eyelids began to flutter and his muscles to tense, Jacob changed position. He sat back on his calves and pulled Harry's back onto his thighs, pressing ever deeper inside. With his feet settled firmly on the floor behind Jacob's back, Harry had a lot more leverage to thrash around at any pace he wanted.

He set it at intense, and Jacob quickly lost his meager control, light losing its consistency and all sense of sound disappearing. He was dimly aware of collapsing forward on top of Harry. His lower back felt like someone had punched it, and he let out a long groan. Despite the pain, he felt incredible. Fortunately for him, Harry was just as frustrated and came several rough palmings from Jacob later.

Their position became extremely uncomfortable as the after-glow faded enough to return muscle control. They untangled themselves, and Jacob grabbed Harry's bag of peas from the edge of the quilt, gently replacing it over his bruise. It was mostly-melted now, but Harry kissed his hand with appreciation anyway.

He mumbled something, and Harry deciphered it somehow and wrapped the edges of the quilt around them, sealing them in a little cocoon on the floor.

"Merry Christmas."

Jacob snorted, too tired to laugh, "It's a bit late."

Harry shrugged, "Still."

"Yeah…"

They drifted off to sleep, Harry tucked against Jacob's back.

~000~

The rest of the week slipped away, and New Year's came around.

Hermione opted to celebrate New Year's with the Weasleys, but sent a very nice bottle of champagne to Harry for the celebration. He bought her a box of the rare Bulgarian chocolates she'd developed a taste for thanks to Viktor in fourth year. Luna couldn't come, though why was still a mystery. She'd looked mistily out the window at a crow when she told Harry she was going to miss it, and then mumbled something about angels and bathtubs. Harry decided not to think too hard about that.

That meant that Neville was coming for sure, though he would spend most of his time wrapped around Sylvie like an octopus. And George had promised to sneak away. He said there was only so much Weasley cheer he could take in one night, and that he would love to meet Jacob's Pack out of sheer curiosity.

True to his predictions, Neville blushingly informed him that he wouldn't be going with them to the Reservation, opting instead to have a 'private' celebration with Sylvie. The lewd gestures Sylvie was making in the background as Neville apologized left little to the imagination of what was going to occur during that private celebration.

George was still on the bandwagon, and Harry dragged out of his that he wasn't seeing anyone at the time. He exchanged a significant look with Jacob, both of them thinking of Leah at once.

New Year was being held at Jacob's house, despite the tight fit. Music thumped loud enough to be heard outside, with loud yells and laughter accompanying it, and every window was lit. Harry smiled at Jacob, missing their quiet secluded refuge already but knowing that it was important for him to show solidarity with Jacob's roots.

George looked excited, and assured both of them that it didn't matter to him that he didn't know anyone else at the party. Harry promised not to abandon him, and George laughed.

"I'm not a girl, you know. If you two need to sneak off for a private snog, I'll handle myself. As long as there's liquor, I can have a good time."

Harry smiled and slapped him on the arm, "It's really good to see you, George. It reminds me of old times."

George's smile grew a tad sad, and he nodded when Harry asked if he was alright, "Yeah, I'm just…thinking of Fred; you know how that goes."

"I do."

Jacob wondered if he ever would. He'd lost his mother, but that was one person to the many these people had seen murdered and stolen away before their very eyes, when they were still children.

Paul threw the door open and charged down the front path to attempt a tackle-hug on Jacob. Seeing as Jacob was a good foot and a half taller and heavy to match it, this only made Jacob rock back on his heels once before he recovered and tossed Paul into a snow drift like a rag doll.

Paul just laughed and introduced himself to George, who was friendly and animated with him, letting Paul drag him inside with promises to get him a cold drink.

Stepping inside was like stepping inside a house-sized bubble of chaos. There were streamers on everything and confetti kept falling from some unknown location. All the imprints were there, and some assorted people from the Quileute tribe. The alcohol was running, since quite a few of the couples had taken over couches and chairs to make out despite the noise and general hyper energy permeating everything around them.

Harry looked around for Leah and didn't see her at first. He went to the kitchen for a drink, leaving Jacob to ask Seth how his search for his imprint was going. Inside he found Paul telling George about some practical jokes he used to pull back in high school. George was laughing and even pulled out his pocket note book to write some ideas down.

And then Leah emerged from the basement, her arms full of bags of crisps. She took one look at George, standing there in all his glorious colorful clothing and hair, and dropped the bags all at once. Her face was slack, eyes not looking like they were there and yet piercing a line of space directly towards George.

She looked like she'd been struck by lightening, and Harry wondered if that was what Jacob looked like just before he fainted on him. He didn't remember.

Leah swayed dangerously and Harry bolted across the room to hold her aright, George joining him a second later.

"You feeling a bit faint, ma'am?" he asked, courteously kicking some teenagers out of the kitchen and sitting her down at the table. She stared at him, a soft look on her face that Harry had only seen in heartbeat measures before. George finally seemed to notice the way she was looking at him and turned so red Harry thought his ears would catch fire.

He tugged awkwardly on a tuft of his red hair and her eyes eagerly followed the movement. He sat down across from her, moving slowly and cautiously. Leah leaned forward across the table and laid her hand on his arm.

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me?"

Harry made a speedy exit, dragging Paul by the ear. Out in the hall, Paul whined,

"What was that all about?"

"She imprinted, you tit!" Harry whispered, swatting him. Paul rubbed his arm where Harry hit him, eyes wide and confused.

"Really? I thought she couldn't."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Just like women couldn't be wolves? I don't think Leah likes following rules, Paul."

He left Paul to chew on that thought and found Jacob. He talked to some people, but kept close to Jacob as the countdown came closer. Not wanting to make a public spectacle of themselves, they snuck off to the kitchen as the countdown began. Harry put his hands on Jacob's shoulders and held his breath as Jacob whispered the last ten seconds.

Harry crushed his mouth against Jacob's just as the shout of 'one!' rang out through the house. Jacob made a sound very similar to a moan and pushed him against the nearest counter and kept him there with his body weight. Harry voiced no complaints, swiping his tongue against Jacob's and drawing him closer with an arm around his neck.

Despite the initial frenzy, their kiss turned slow and desperate. Harry poured himself into the hot caresses of mouths that fit together as though designed like puzzle pieces. Jacob's hand came around to grip the back of his shirt, hard, bunching the fabric into a knot inside his fist.

Harry let out a gasp when teeth grazed his lip.

A loud rustling noise drew their attention to the pantry. Fearing vermin, Jacob threw open the accordion-folded door and slapped a hand over his eyes when he saw Leah and George in a highly comprised position. Harry howled with laughter behind him.

Leah did not appear to be impressed.

Tired of the noise and festivities, they slipped out the back door and into the woods. The ice-cold air pinched Harry's cheeks and made his eyes water. They walked without needing to speak until they emerged onto one of the many beaches of Washington. The water lapped the shore to one side, a murky puddle that stretched beyond their line of sight in the dark, and the trees hung heavy on the other. They rustled with every twitch of wildlife and whisper of wind.

All around them was peace and nature at its quietest, and the heavy harmony of it all made Harry light-headed. He leaned his head against Jacob's shoulder for support, and Jacob offered to carry him.

"No, I want to feel the sand between my toes…"

Not that there was much sand to be had. This beach was primarily pebbled, and the stones glinted different shades of purple and indigo in the moonlight. Stars twinkled down on them, seeming to wink in the vast navy of the sky. Harry stared up at it, walking like a man asleep. Jacob stared at Harry, and then joined him in looking at the sky. Both sights took his breath away, and made him deliriously happy that the universe, fate, whatever, had aligned their paths to travel side-by-side.

Harry stepped on a sharp rock and cursed, hopping on one foot while clutching his injured one.

"What a way to start the year…" he grumbled. Jacob smiled and pulled him into a kiss that lasted for several long, slow minutes. Harry looked dazed when Jacob pulled away, and he sagged forward until his forehead hit Jacob's collarbone.

"This is what I want to do all next year, and the year after that and the one after that one as well. Hell, I want to spend all the years I have left doing just this."

"What, kissing?" Jacob couldn't hide his humor.

Harry shook his head, "No, just…this; just the two of us, together."

Jacob kissed him again.

~000~

End Chapter 30

End Neophyte and Neurotic

Final chance to review, kids. It would be appreciated, even though I am slightly shamed that this story took me so long to write, what with it being only 30 chapters.


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